my best friend is maria. i met her at the eating disorder recovery center. she was an ex-rhythmic gymnast from miami. she is very funny and very wild. she has all the boys all over her. her current boy toy whom she loves dearly is jeremiah but i like to call him jer-bear. after all of the experiences she's had throughout her life she has developed a degree of fearlessness that allows her to go on adventures. she likes the color green, her favorite fruit is a mango. she has a lot of family drama and whenever we have sleepovers i ask her to recall them to me like bedtime stories. "tell me the one about the grandmother that murdered eight men." i love her family. her sister oriana the cutie, big brother manuel with the mullet, her dear mother lorena, and her witchy dad also named manuel.
she was the first person to teach me spanish. she recovered from her ED but it still weeds its way into her life, por ejemple she still ignores her feelings in order to stay with "friends" at her school she hates. she and i are opposites, i feel safe when i'm alone but she feels safe in a tribe. the girls at her school are really judgmental and bitchy so she finds refuge in crazy hooligan boys who are friends of jer-bear.
we hung out and she was telling me about all the fun she has with those boys, telling me how great things happen when you put yourself out there and don't care what other people think of you. and it all seems great but i don't know what life is without viewing myself in third person.
ME IN THIRD PERSON
the basis of this idea is this quote by margaret atwood that has haunted me since the age of 13:
when i am all alone i have to look pretty. when i am enraged and crying i have to look pretty while i do it. even when i have no one visiting me my legs have to be shaved. when i'm at a stoplight in the car i tilt my head at an angle so the person next to me thinks i'm pretty. what am i if not nameless and beautiful, silent and untouchable. for years i've resolved to shut up, don't speak, and devote myself to beauty. but i always talk and ruin things. that's why i want to be alone, because as soon as i open my mouth people see how messy i am. they give me a name. they belittle me. is this making sense? exhibit b:
i'm like the moth to that yellow light. in the past i've had friendships with conversations that consist of self deprecation in the hopes that the other would counter it with "omg no ur so perfect!" and about 1,000 different ways of saying "tell me what i am to you." i'm done with those now, thank god.
i have danced all my life. cosmically, joyfully, sincerely. improvisation used to come naturally to me. but then i realized my body, and now i have a gigantic wall, a colossal mental blockage that prevents me from allowing myself freedom, invisibility. like everything i do has to be a success, a masterpiece. i started taking dance classes when i was 9 and that's where i learned to suck in. no more eating disorder, but there's something else lingering. something that no amount of starvation can fix. it is the insatiable need for perfection, or at least the image of it.
╚══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╝ ╚══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╝ ╚══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╝ ╚══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╝ ╚══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╝
sooooo anyway this conundrum not only has taken some level of joy from my art but also i hate eating in front of people, i cry in public and hate myself for it, i regret every word i say! so as a result i really like being alone. i can't take initiative to make new friends and connections because i am so self conscious that i don't believe anyone could value me in their life. i don't really feel worthy of any attention.
but maria is setting out to change this. i have decided to stop wallowing in self hatred and pity because tbh? it's fucking annoying and egocentric and no one really cares about me as much as i do. so on friday maria is gonna take me on an adventure with her and her homeboys and i am gonna attempt living in the moment. will update later. wish me luck!
Comments
Displaying 0 of 0 comments ( View all | Add Comment )