A bit of rambling this morning.
Perhaps the hardest part when you start pouring your soul onto the page, is the very start. You don’t know if the page will welcome you or if they’ll push you away, rebounded from the very first words you type. Are you receptive? Maybe not right now, not this time.
The thing is, I never know where to start. It all just gushes from me in torrents like waterfalls. I’m afraid. I’m scared. I’m horrified.
I came to a realization, as teens often do. All those around me, save the very few people who really know the “real” me if there is anything remotely like that, overestimate and underestimate me. There’s never a real base for me.
The theoretical mask that I wear everyday is almost never cracked. It’s always the first mask, the one-dimensional girl who is unbearably shy and only speaks when something catches her attention. The moment she does speak, there is a silence over the whole room and it is as if a mannequin has come to life. Little do they know the quiet judgment and observation and manipulation that go on behind that little mask. Everything is a scheme.
I’ve lost my everyday self in searching for the future and looking towards that light.
Others think she’s this quiet masked girl. Upon first inspection, they think she is a layered but shy girl. Someone who is sweet and unassuming, naive. Someone who can be serious and also playful at the same time. A human of paradoxes and confusion, essentially a work-in-progress.
But when you engage in a conversation with her, and only her, a warmer nature comes out. She has this undertone that makes you feel you can trust her. Everyone tells her their secrets within around 5 minutes of conversation. She makes you feel at ease, always says “I totally get what you mean” and supplies meaningless words that make you feel more comfortable. They don’t know the masks that the girl hides under. She pulls out another one, the second one, because it’s only fair that they see a little farther because they’ve poured out their soul to her. She tells them about herself, a bit of her past, you know the dark and gloomy days. She doesn’t reveal anything more—it makes her feel naked if she discloses every aspect of herself. So she doesn’t. She remains an enigma but somehow they still trust her, still confide into her.
They really don’t know what they’re getting themselves into. She jokes and has an expressive face that everyone teases. She plays her part well. They have nothing to think past when talking to her. Somehow, she is allowed to joke about everyone else but no one is allowed to joke about her. It’s a strange relationship she has with the world, but it works. Emotions are her jungle-gym when they are others’ swamplands. She understands personalities and tries her best to bring out others’ best sides. But how can she understand everyone but herself?
They all think she’s this steady rock, this anchor. They don’t realize she’s actually the ship, holding all the cargo from everyone’s secrets and struggling to stay afloat and remember her place.
And when someone realizes her true nature, the explosive anger that fireballs anyone in her way, they scurry. They create rumors about her, call her names, believe she’s something more than just a work-in-progress. They call her names, make fun of her, do anything to believe she’s more than what she truly is. If they believe in the idea of her and make the her behind it larger, than it’s okay to have lost in a battle because she’s this big, horrifying thing that anyone would lose against.
That’s the lovely mask, and the overestimated idea of her.
The underestimated idea of her is that she can’t handle anything, can’t do anything, doesn’t get emotions. She is this broken shard that’s never going to be fixed and will never change.
But everyone changes. So does she. She continually rises from the broken mirrors surrounding her and tries new masks. No mask truly fits, and it’s only a matter of time before the mask starts to shift.
She confides in those who almost truly accept her. But she doesn’t like to confide in them. They’re too beautiful to be burdened. She truly believes her friends to be more beautiful and better people than her. That’s why she makes friends with them.
Others try to hide things. She can take it, she truly can, as long as you word it right. She’s a conniving fool with a knack for feelings.
She believes she is a martyr. She wants to be that person, that hero, that bringer of change to make everything more beautiful.
But, sometimes, she needs a hero for herself before she can do that for everyone else. She knows she can’t be there for everyone when they need her. She’s just a rebound friend. You can’t trust her to be there for you always. The only one you can trust is yourself.
It’s a hard lesson to learn, but someone has to teach it to you. And if she’s the villain in that, she’ll take it because you need to grow up and rely on yourself. If you keep hanging onto her, onto the idea of her, she’ll bog you down. So, eventually, she lets everyone go. Even though it hurts. You’d be surprised at how much she would change for just one person. That’s probably why she likes Code Geass so much. She relates with Lelouch, even if it’s in small bits. They both have secrets and the bigger picture in their mind.
The fights, the angers, the conclusions made about her, it was all for the larger picture. But everyone was too caught up in the smaller details to see the true fact and true picture. She was there for a reason, joined for a reason, always had a reason behind everything she did.
So, step back. Take a look at the fuss she’s created and wonder at what this was all for.