It’s Thursday! Almost Friday.
I had the weirdest dream last night, that turned into a nightmare. I’m not going to share it with you because it was seriously so disturbing.
I’ve been on this kick lately of listening to songs that I was obsessed with when I was in middle and high school. I’m talking Blu Cantrell “Hit ‘Em Up Style”, Macy Gray “I try”, James Blunt “High”, Toad The Wet Sprocket, Mariah Carey (The entire Fantasy album). It’s bringing me back to the moments where I would sing along to these songs in my car while driving around alone.
I used to make mix CDs of love songs from the 90′s and drive around thinking about the guy I liked (It was pretty much the same guy through Middle School, and then the same guy all through High School – yeah I ‘went out’ with other people, but nothing could touch these guys). It usually ended up with me tearing up thinking that they would never see me as anything other than the person they ignored.
I was so desperate in high school to just fit in anywhere. I wanted someone to care, so badly. I wanted to feel like I had friends. I wanted to be wanted by a guy for more than what I had already experienced. I wanted so many things that to others were just afforded. I watched girls and guys at school dances and thinking, why can’t that be me? Why can’t I know how to dress. Why can’t I listen and like the cool music? Why can’t I look like them?
Why am I so much less.
I tried, i mean I couldn’t wear the dresses that others wore, because I was so incredibly uncomfortable with being girly. I didn’t know how to do it. This dress and all the others were picked out by my mom, because I had no idea what I was doing.
I never learned when I was younger to be less critical of myself, and thus it continued into college, and now adulthood. The fact is, everything did work out as it was supposed to.
It’s time to move on.