Wednesday, March 03, 2010
This blog is from 8 years ago, and it's amazing how affected my writing was. It still is. My whole life is. I don't tell anyone how I really feel about them. Truth is, I'm incredibly trusting, and I have this serious overflowing feeling of warmth and love toward a lot of my friends. I use the word serious, because I think it is hurtful to the relationship. I fear losing them if I express hurt.
Emily, my roommate in Chicago, called me naive. She did't mean it to be mean, but I got kind of hurt, which was stupid. We talked more about it, and I regretted feeling bad, but people have been calling me naive, clumsy, scattered, and generally unable to take care of myself my entire life. The ironic thing is that almost everyone also says in incredibly independent. That wasn't my choice. I get lonely, but I really hate the amount of criticism I feel from people--people who seem to be criticizing my un-changeables... stuff that's just my personality--I can temper it, but it will never change.
So connecting the dots, possibly if I were more honest with people about what I really feel from them, or the ways they hurt me, I would stop feeling so guilty for my own flaws and how they annoy other people.
I don't know where I'm going with this. I'm completely emotionally unavailable, can't figure out how to tell even my own mom my problems, and can really only stand myself when I'm alone and not bothering anyone else.
I'm so neurotic...... and the neurosis is driving me underground! I should become an artist.
posted by Mary 2:30 PM
