Truth

"You try too hard to compensate for your insecurities."

No other words have hit me harder. It's been months since I've heard these words, in particular, and they've stuck with me ever since. Because it's true: I try really hard to make up what I lack in. And I lack in a lot of things. I never feel like I'm enough of what I want to be, or who I'm trying to be. If you asked someone, or multiple people, how to describe me, I'd guess the words "unique, egotistical, sarcastic, and funny" would come up.

If you asked me to describe myself, I'd say the same things. Because it's all about image. When you strive so hard to make people believe you are who you've been pretending to be, it's difficult to actually open up and tell them how you feel, or let them know who you are. Especially when you don't really know who you are yourself.

I have some wonderful friends, but sometimes, I feel like they know so little about me. And I don't blame them for not being mind-readers, and it's not like they've never made an effort to try, it's just hard to be vulnerable when you've made a life of being the life of the party. The guy who's never in control, who just lets himself go.

It's exhausting being so fake all the time. It's tiring hiding all your problems, even from your friends, because you don't want them to think you have any problems. Even if you keep someone at arm's reach, though, they begin to understand you after enough time has passed. You think you've hidden yourself away so well, and they still ask, "What's wrong?"

Those are the most terrifying words to me. Because there's never a good answer. Either you lie ("Oh, nothing's wrong, I was just thinking...") or you spill the beans, and then, where do you begin?

The truth is, most of the time, I hate myself. The truth is I dress well, and act the way I do, because I thrive on compliments, because if nobody else thinks I'm okay, it's harder to pretend to be okay. The truth is, I'm so tired of being alone that from time to time I am physically in pain, until I take my mind off the subject. The truth is, I don't think I'm pretty, I don't think I'm clever, and I don't think I have anything to contribute to anyone, and I think that's why I'm still alone.

Well, what do you know. The truth does hurt.

Acceptance

For years, I've touted this "I'm-myself-take-me-or-leave-me" attitude, forcing people to accept me as I was or get the hell out of my way. But I haven't been true to my word, because I've denied a very large part of my life for a very long time. I was afraid of being a steriotype, and worse, being steriotyped. For many things, but mostly, for being gay. What was I so afraid of, I wonder now, that I denied myself such a large part of my existence?

Obviously, this isn't a "coming-out" tale. I've been okay with BEING gay for years, it's just people viewing me as gay that I'm starting to be okay with. And, oddly enough, it's because of Glee. Before Kurt Hummel, I had never seen a character who was so steriotypical, yet completely amazing despite (or perhaps because of) that. My friends compare me to Kurt, and we share a few simular traits, but Kurt has a sense of self that I'm still working to achieve.

I dressed like a Nirvana, grunge-era reject because I thought if I actually took the time to arrange my clothes, come up with outfits, enjoy shopping, I would be the type of person I didn't want to be. But if I do enjoy arranging my clothes, coming up with outfits, and shopping, and I didn't do that stuff for fear of the way people would see me, wouldn't that be a whole other kind of conformity?

I'm slowly learning to be okay with myself. I'm 20 years old. I've got all the time in the world for growing-up and all the lessons we learn through out life. I've got great friends who support me, no matter what (I'm pretty sure they love me more, now, even). I'm in a good place. Instead of worrying how things are going to unfold, or giving a damn about the future, I'm just gonna accept it all- the laughter, the love, the pain, the anger, the here, the now, myself. These moments.

Because these are important.

I'm going to make myself sick, with all the lying I do to myself. I forget that I'm not this person I think I like others to think I am. Yesterday, David said I come off as emotionless. That stung. I know I can be difficult, and I know I can be terrible, but I didn't think I'd ever come off as cold. The irony is, I feel just as much as the next person. Every new stimuli makes me feel something else. Sometimes I'll get sad because I've seen something small, and I think too much on it so it just seems like a really sad metaphor. I just don't like to show my emotion.

There's just so much mask, and I have no idea what I'm wearing, so everbody else is seeing me in a different way, but I'm in control of what they see, but I'm not. Honestly, I can't explain it better than that. I try to be confident, and I just come off as bitchy. I try to be reflective, and I come off as depressive. I try to be sympathetic, and I come off as needy. At least people like a confident bitch. That's the only reason I've stuck with that one.

Here's what I want in life:
Love
True Friendship (check)
Real Confidence
Direction
Adventure
Dreams

One out of six? It's a start.

Not Enough

It feels like I'm stuck in a whirlpool, now. See, I figured I'd keep this "drifting" theme, because it works so well for me. As of late, though, I've had problems I don't have the ability to run away from. I can't bullshit myself out of them, I can't do anything, really. Well, I suppose I could just face life.

I tried to bring my dog to the animal shelter, one morning. I drove her down there, and when I parked in their lot, I burst into tears. She didn't know what was going on, obviously. She wagged her tail as she licked the tears from my face. I almost did it. I walked to the door to the office, and was saved. They didn't open till 11am, which is when I needed to be at work.

Since then I've been avoiding it a second time. I've already had to muster up the courage to do it once, why should I have to do it again? Why do I have to do it alone? I love that dog, because that dog loves me like I'm more than I am. No matter how badly I behave, or how mean I get, or how stupid I can be, she loves me with a ferocity and loyalty that I don't even think I can understand. I even admire that in her- which, I know, sounds weird, since we're talking about a dog, but why not? Even animals can have traits we ourselves wished we possessed.

How am I supposed to sleep at night, knowing she's not going to be laying down next to me? Curled up against my legs, or pushing me into the wall. What about all the memories? The first moment I saw her, outside Chris McKee's house, when she was just a puppy, playing with her brothers and sisters. The moment I knew, "That's my dog." The time she locked me and Sam out of my grandma's car, or when we went to Colorado Creek and she really bonded to me. Like, wouldn't let me out of her sight kind of thing.

So many memories, and she's still got so much time left, and I have to give it all up? I know it's not fair, to anyone, really. She's still a puppy, for all it matters. She needs someone who has the time and energy to play with her, and pay undivided attention to her. Someone who can train her properly, so she won't chew on the... well, anything, really.

It's not fair to Emily, who can really only be comfortable in her own house in her room. Who's lost her favorite headband, and a couple pairs of shoes to my little monster. Who can't really touch, or play with, or hold a dog, yet loves them, anyway. Who has to put up with the smell in the house, the hair on the furniture, and the mess we always come home to. Always.

And maybe it's not fair to me. Because I don't have the time to train her right. Or the know-how. I don't have the money to live on my own, and take care of such a needy pet. I don't have the competence. I don't have the resolve. I really don't have much, except for a love of that dog.

Sadly, sometimes, that just isn't enough.

Frozen

It's surprising, the things in my life that HAVEN'T happened. The people around me are surprised when I tell them I don't have a piercing or tattoo, because I seem like the type who would. Even I think I'm the type who would, or should, but I haven't.

When my sister was heading towards graduation, I had to go to Lathrop to drop off some things for her. While I was there, I decided to check up on some of my old teachers. But, mostly just Mr. Parker. It'd been... what? A year since I had seen him last? He stood outside his classroom, apperantly ready to leave, with a group of students crowding him and asking him questions. I must not have stood out as much as I thought I would, because he didn't notice me (then again, my hair was a natural color...). "Mr. Parker!" I practically yelled, as he was beginning to walk away.

He turned around, and it took a moment, but eventually he remembered my face. He greeted me warmly, and we made small talk, but it was when he said, "I'm suprised to see you're still here." that piqued my interest the most. "Why's that?" I asked him, not entirely sure what he meant. "I didn't picture you staying in Alaska. I always thought you'd go someplace exotic, or exciting. I kind of pictured you in New York."

Yeah, me too. For years, actually. When did it come to be, that I realised I couldn't live in Alaska? As far back as middle school, I can remember telling people I wouldn't live here all my life. I was going to get out, into the world. Travel was a big dream of mine; I pictured myself in Tokyo, London, Amsterdam, anywhere that had history and life. Of course, I'd still need a home, and that would be in New York City. A small apartment, perhaps, where I'd keep anything I didn't need to take with me.

I didn't want to get stuck here. Even now, I don't want to be here. I hear the world calling my name, and as much as I want to run into it, find it, follow it, explore it, I'm stuck. Paralyzed, even. I'm terrified of all that unknown... Growing up in Alaska your whole life, being somebody who's never mattered in any way that's important, you don't look into the void and think, "Who cares if I don't have a plan?" and jump. As much as I want to, as much as I'd love to see what lies beyond this Winter of Discontent, I'm frozen into this place like the frost beneath the ground.

But, I'm not giving up. I'm going to get out of here, and I'm going to make my place in the world. I've got brains, desire, and according to some, more strength than I know. I'll find my way out.

Unspeakable Chaos

Prudery has been a part of our society for... well, since society became a word. Cavemen didn't give a shit about sex or sexuality, I can garauntee you that. Decency and social structure are a product of our advancement. But not all products are positive (the H-bomb).

I have the social grace to mingle with all sorts of different types of people. From major prudes, to major sluts. And I mean both in the best way possible. To each his/her own, right? I was a hopeless romantic for years. The whole reason I moved to Fairbanks, actually, was because I was looking for a boyfriend. How sad is that? 14 year old, newly come out me, wearing caked on black make-up and the Tripp pants with the chains. Don't get me started about my hair.

Romance never came. However, casual sex was quickly discovered after I started drinking. Most people probably don't understand this. How does a self-described romantic quickly shift from looking for "The One" to degrading himself in somebody else's bedroom, emerging to a room full of drunks wearing somebody else's shirt? Lonliness. I was One with Pisces. (In all fairness, before I developed the ridiculous amount of confidence I now have, I realise I was very Pisces.)

I was so desperate for approval- for someone to find me attractive, or interesting- that I found it was easy for me to just "put out". I wanted someone to love me. I was a stupid, stupid boy. At some point in time, I realised I was becoming a "downer". I was the guy who'd get drunk, and cry. People wouldn't party with me unless someone volunteered to babysit me for the night. Many also knew I was a total pushover, and they used this to walk all over me. Hint that I might have to confront someone, and I was putty in your hands. I was the epitome of Pisces, I was weak and dependant, and everyone felt like they had to take care of me.

I got tired of this. I was tired of people seeing me as this wet-blanket, dependable, go-nowhere daydreamer. I made an effort to change. And it started with standing up for myself. Sadly, I had never had too much practice in this area. Since I have always been good with the spoken word, though, I found myself very much at home in the art of bitchery. I couldn't intimidate someone who knew me. I couldn't outyell them, or outdepress them, but it was easy for me to just brush them off.

As this came to be, I found myself more and more at home with this new "attitude." I found myself believing that the confidence I had once faked was becoming real, and even more-so, was bordering on egotism. My bitchery, which I had mostly used to make people laugh and get me out of confrontation, was becoming a constant. I was being mean without realising it, and worse yet, mean while realising it.

Fuck. I don't know if this blog ever had direction. Which has always been my constant. Whether I'm a Pisces, a Gemini, or whatever the fuck someone see's me as, you'll never see me with direction. And if you ever do, please, let me know, so you can tell me where I'm going.

Change

I've been having a crisis lately. I wrote a blog, not too long ago, about what a bitch I can be. How I feel bad about it, but don't show it. And lately, it's been a much bigger problem. I don't know if I'm just gaining a worse sense of guilt, or if I'm being bitchier than usual. (Actually, I know I've been bitchier than usual.) Like, legitimatly mean. As I've said, it's something I've been stewing over.

I don't know why I've been acting the way I have, though I have suspicions that it's a number of stress-related reasons, but I'm looking for a solution. I don't believe in fate or destiny, but coincedence can be a powerful thing. We've all seen the generic quotes, usually along the lines of "Be the change you want to see in the world". I can't speak for others, but for me, I usually find myself passing over these quotes. Either I've seen them before, or they just don't interest me the way they should.

But, as I said, coincedence is a powerful thing. It seems like lately, I've been finding answers like these, answers that basically tell me to carve out my own future. I define the person I am: I'm a bitch because I accept I'm a bitch. Once upon a time, this wasn't the case. I'm afraid to ask people what they think of me, because I'm afraid of what's sugar coated and even more afraid of the truth. I know my friends- my real friends- love and appreciate me. (Yes, Lavina and Emily, this includes you, my most faithful readers.)

As I've also said before, I sometimes miss the person I was. I miss the passion, the willingness to confront and stand for what I believe in. It seems like I've avoided confrontation for years, I'm afraid of being disliked, but by being the person I think others want me to be, it seems like I'm just hating myself. And even more so, it seems people aren't enjoying who I THINK they want me to be, anyway.

It's frightening, honestly, imagining these changes I'm hoping to make in myself. Frightening because, if I fail, I know it's a failure to myself, and if I succeed, who knows if I'll like that person any better than the person I am now? Or maybe I'll make the correct changes, but it doesn't change me the way I want it to?

Anyway, sorry to all the people I've been bitchier than usual. I'm trying to change- I WANT to change- but we'll see how that goes. If nothing else, I'm unreliable, and this includes promises to myself.