No matter who you are, you want someone to understand you. No, you need someone to understand you, so you can feel like you make sense to the world. There are people that will still claim to enjoy being misunderstood, that they thrive from being a mystery. But they will always be looking for that one person who can break through that glass and just ‘get’ them.

I think we all care what other people think, we put too much importance on it, but we definitely care. We want to make sense to someone, but how can you make sense to someone if you don’t even make sense to yourself? They say you can appreciate poetry even if you don’t understand it, but I am not poetry. I am not a piece of art or a book. It’s different with human beings – if people don’t get you, they don’t like you. It’s just natural, we shun what we don’t understand. I think that’s why I don’t like myself, because I literally do not understand myself.

I have been in love with someone and not understood them, which was part of the initial interest. I’m not sure he got me either, and maybe that’s why we burnt out. Because exactly like life, if we cannot figure something out even after trying so desperately, we give up. But I really want someone that won’t give up. I want someone to understand me. I need to be able to talk to someone and they just understand. I am not alone in this wish, but I am alone. I will probably spend the rest of my life searching for that person, so I can make sense to the world, so I can make sense to me.


I am an extra in my own life

I abandoned this for two years because I was in it for the quick fix. I thought that writing about trying to be a better person would have some sort of subconscious psychological effect on me and my brain and that it would all be okay. I don’t know why I’m blogging about this when I could just as easily type it into a word document, because no one will ever read this. Maybe it helps to think I’m putting it out into the universe.

How do I know no one will ever read this? Because I believe that my life is an easy indication. I need to talk about being average; an extra in my own life.

For some reason it’s taken me way too long to realise that I have spent my life being completely average, no more, no less. The way I look, act, think, dress, just am. I think almost every child is brought up to think that they are special, that they can achieve anything they set out to, that they have so much potential. I am no exception to this, my parents said these exact things to me. I actually use to think that I was smart, and creative, and even funny. I thought I possessed qualities that set me apart from other people. Don’t get me wrong, I have never thought I was above anyone else, but I thought I was different. How ignorant, right? There are more than 7 billion people on this planet and I had the audacity to think I had a little bit of ‘special’ in me.

If you were to imagine the most average, standard person you possibly could, you wouldn’t see me. I’d be standing next to the person you thought of, just out of focus. I’m not even average enough to be a textbook definition. Everything I have done, and everything that has happened to me, has been so completely ordinary. I have passed tests and failed them, loved someone toxic and had my heart broken, my parents split up, I have gained and lost people I would never have expected. I have gotten and lost jobs, hurt people, been on holiday, can averagely play an instrument, been to hospital, visited someone I love in hospital. Can someone tell me anything that is out of the ordinary?

I review my life so far and nothing that stands out to me, is anything you haven’t seen or read before. Even my own interests are basic as can be; I have never discovered anything. The way I look is average. Not average as in those girls described in teen novels that are plain but cute, and not in a way that if she takes her glasses off you suddenly see the girl you’ve always been looking for. My face isn’t symmetrical, my hair is flat and I’ll never have a nice figure. Even dying my hair and buying expensive make up has done nothing for me.

I have mediocre-ly tried to be better, be a bit ‘more’. I wish I was ‘too much’, because at least then I could feel something, and know that there was a possibility other people might notice me. Even my opinions are boring and average, how fucking lame is that? The way I feel about things is probably exactly the same as the majority of the rest of the world.

I want to be more, be something. Literally at this point, anything will do. I have a desire to be noticed, appreciated; to have an impact. I would give up so much for someone to find me interesting. But once again, how is that any different to anyone else? I am an extra in my own life, in the background, pretending to be talking or eating or just being normal. I am pretending that I matter. But I think the movie can continue without me.

Mother might know best

I don’t think it was until I was almost seventeen that I decided to stop actively arguing and being annoyed with my mother. I don’t know why I behaved that way, I’m not really sure why any teenager goes through the phase of “they just don’t get me”, because it isn’t just puberty. I’m not sure what changed to make me stop, but I think I realized that it wasn’t helping my stress levels and it made home really lonely with me and her and a huge rift in between us. I hate making the first move, which might be a matter of pride, but either way I attempted to change my attitude and actually spoke to her like a friend. I started actually telling her about my day, and was honest with her about how I felt and I really think it has changed my life for the better.

People say that your parents only want what’s best for you, or “they only have your best interest at heart” and you brush it off, because generally it isn’t true. But, I had a long talk with my mother today and she really listened. That doesn’t sound like anything spectacular but after a life of feeling ignored and unworthy, having someone to just listen to you means everything. I told her about all my problems, with some extreme ugly crying, and she knew what to say. I know now that she wants what’s best for me, and if I do fuck up, she’ll still be there. Friends first, mother-daughter second? Maybe this is the key.


Seriously, look at what you’re doing

So, this is about to sound incredibly 6th-grade right now – prepare yourselves. Why are people so mean? Of course I’m speaking of what I know, not serial killers and terrorists. There are people out there that actually choose to hurt people, whether it be emotionally or physically. I know we’ve all asked this, but why? And sure, many therapists and psychologists would be able to give me many different answers to this. But on a very human level, I find this hard to comprehend. I’ve previously stated that I’m not a great person, and I will admit that there have been times where I have been selfish, rude and simply mean. But not once have I done this without being riddled with guilt and made an attempt to apologize. Like many others, I am just so exorbitantly sick of people that think it’s fine to ridicule, humiliate, insult, exploit, and simply hurt someone. It’s really fucking not okay.

Honesty is good. I know it’s not always what we wanna hear, but in most cases, it’s what we need. If someone tells you they love you, and you do not feel the same way, don’t lie. Now this may hurt their feelings, but it’s different, you are not intending to hurt them – just be nice about it.

If you’re hurting somebody you love just to feel control, just to see how far you can go, or for no fucking reason at all. Stop. Look at what you’re doing. You’ve decided to waste your mental abilities on seeing how bad you can make someone feel? Life may be the longest thing we do, but it’s still too damn short to not be showing how much you love them.

Yes – we all say things in the moment and it can actually feel good to put someone in their place or embarrass them, particularly if it’s a case of revenge. But what’s the point? That doesn’t make you the better person, and sure you’ll feel satisfied for a bit but it’s not worth it. If you could just ignore that I’m sounding a lot like a teacher or your mother, then you know it’s true.

There are a lot of things and ways of hurting people that I haven’t covered and again, I know. I know that I sound ridiculously patronizing, and this won’t even apply to a lot of people. I’m also aware that a couple of paragraphs of my anger towards this topic isn’t going to change anything, let alone people’s attitudes. But if people could just, think? Like honestly think about the way you treat other people and it may even affect your whole life. Maybe we’re capable of a tiny change? Maybe?

I’m Starting Now

I know that I’m not a good person. I’m actually aware of what a shitty human being I am. I don’t know if you’ve ever been told that you’re not good enough? Or ever seen a depiction of what somebody thinks of you, and realized that you are not quite what you thought you were? Your heart sinks – I mean you can almost feel it turn to iron and the pure weight of it as it sits and crushes your internal organs. You feel sick, and your brain feels like it’s expanding as you go into overload with all the ways you can be good enough – that’s if you don’t let it diminish the small grain of self esteem you had left.

I’ve never liked who I am, and I still don’t. I don’t know if I even have it in me to try, but this is it. This is me trying. I can do better; I will be better. I’m starting now.