Dug out my diary (my actual, pen-to-paper-one) & flipped through entries I had long forgotten writing. Many struck a chord with me as much as the day I wrote them... which was probably a bad idea since they made me feel as shitty as I was feeling then. One in particular stood out to me today:
(30 July 2013)
I'm a mess. I'm all over the place. I don't know how to be, how to act, what to do, because being me just isn't good enough. I'm just not right & I don't know why & I try so hard to be & that just makes things worse. I don't know how to be the person you want & that you won't get sick of. I feel like... I just don't have much to offer.
I read that & crumpled into tears, because I've never stopped feeling that way or worse, BEING that way. I'm always trying to be the perfect fit for every kind of person, or group. I try never to be too this or too that, because I have to fit into so many roles at the same time. I try to play it as safe as possible, so that I can please as many as I can. Online, I'm a bit bitchy, a bit girly, a bit emo, a bit aggressive, a bit passive, a bit hipster, a bit mainstream... "will I seem too this if I do this?" I'm a bit everything & all nothing. If you asked me who am I really, or what am I like really, purely, wholly... I have no clue. And I thought we were taught that we can achieve anything if we try hard enough. So I did & I do. I push & change & scrutinise & obsess, & then I break down when I realise that no matter how hard I try, I will never be the right one, no matter how much I want it.