Identity Crisis
Every time I look in the mirror I cannot reconcile myself with the person I see looking back at me. Often I think I know who I am, but maybe I am just terribly delusional. Who is this fat-faced girl looking back at me. I don't live in this shell, this cage of aspiring dreams and broken reality. I live somewhere out there. That is why I need to climb mountains even when they are full of shouting fairgrounds and gaudy temples. Somehow there is peace lying on the wonky horizon.
I am now 27 years old, hooray for me having made it this far. I celebrated at someone else's party by playing a game against friends of mine from Ireland. The seriousness with which I flirted at the Italian party is frightening. I decided the Argentinian boys were fair game because they were systematically chatting up each girl in the room. The ludicrousness of the entire game was exaggerated by the fact that every woman was dressed as some sort of a brothel treat, due to the hostess's facination with Moulin Rouge and a certain boy who she wanted to get into bed. It worked, but only after I realised it was one of the Argentinians I was teasing and let him escape. The rest were sure that the Irish girls were on for an all out orgy and were somewhat disappointed when we left (do they not know Irish don't do sexy?)
I was ashamed of myself.
Claustrophobia was the instigator last night. I went out with a pair of Uruguayan twins last night, one of who I had a crush on and the other one my friend liked. Somehow after being ignored like the old left over piece of bread no-one is interested i for most of the night, I ended up with Mister Confident and the guy I liked was with my friend. We left the club at 9am because I was having an overloud of small dark nastiness and had to go. Outside the bouncer believed me when I told him I was claustrophobic as apparently he could see it on my magic-face-which-does-not-belong-to-me. Being in bed with a stranger is complicated because I do not want to offend nor disappoint them but I also need to follow my own rules. It is not my house and I am annoyed to be in the situation in the first place just because my friend can't say no. Only the next morning will I learn this, at the moment I think she is happily with the other guy, which is probably true even if she won't admit it. Why are so many girls like this? At least I admit I am ashamed. Tomorrow my twin will be the one saying to his brother "How did I get dumped with the old one?"
I am ashamed.
In Prague someone tells me "I will not let you go". But it is never true. No-one can hold you to the end. Everybody leaves in the end.
Who am I? Why do I look so different to who I really am?
I am now 27 years old, hooray for me having made it this far. I celebrated at someone else's party by playing a game against friends of mine from Ireland. The seriousness with which I flirted at the Italian party is frightening. I decided the Argentinian boys were fair game because they were systematically chatting up each girl in the room. The ludicrousness of the entire game was exaggerated by the fact that every woman was dressed as some sort of a brothel treat, due to the hostess's facination with Moulin Rouge and a certain boy who she wanted to get into bed. It worked, but only after I realised it was one of the Argentinians I was teasing and let him escape. The rest were sure that the Irish girls were on for an all out orgy and were somewhat disappointed when we left (do they not know Irish don't do sexy?)
I was ashamed of myself.
Claustrophobia was the instigator last night. I went out with a pair of Uruguayan twins last night, one of who I had a crush on and the other one my friend liked. Somehow after being ignored like the old left over piece of bread no-one is interested i for most of the night, I ended up with Mister Confident and the guy I liked was with my friend. We left the club at 9am because I was having an overloud of small dark nastiness and had to go. Outside the bouncer believed me when I told him I was claustrophobic as apparently he could see it on my magic-face-which-does-not-belong-to-me. Being in bed with a stranger is complicated because I do not want to offend nor disappoint them but I also need to follow my own rules. It is not my house and I am annoyed to be in the situation in the first place just because my friend can't say no. Only the next morning will I learn this, at the moment I think she is happily with the other guy, which is probably true even if she won't admit it. Why are so many girls like this? At least I admit I am ashamed. Tomorrow my twin will be the one saying to his brother "How did I get dumped with the old one?"
I am ashamed.
In Prague someone tells me "I will not let you go". But it is never true. No-one can hold you to the end. Everybody leaves in the end.
Who am I? Why do I look so different to who I really am?
posted by Green Glass Beads @ 01:13
3 Comments:
I often spend a long time staring into the mirror and wondering who the hell it is staring back at me.
My physical appearance seems almost ludicrously strange sometimes.
Chin up, Beads.
I'm not comfortable with how I actually look either. The version of myself in my own mind just doesn't look like that. But that is pretty common.
Teasing guys as a game? That is something you should be ashamed of, men aren't very clever when it comes to that sort of thing you know.
I just chucked the freakin mirrors. More room for white blank walls. More space for nothing. But at least I don't gotta see me every morning, noon and night.
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