que significa yo?2004-09-12 @ 4:56 p.m..... what's up, diary? i took a moment of silence for yesterday. amazing how a feeling can grow so numb over time. i had a lot to write about yesterday too. damn. even when i'm writing for myself i seem to get writer's block. well, for all of you anonymous readers out there, hi. here we go: **** i know one of the main themes running through my head is how i identify myself to/with others. i basically mimic whatever crowd i'm in (when in rome....) i am drawn to a certain type of person inexplicably. inextricably? but at the same time, i totally cannot identify with them. how is it possible to be an outcast within my own subset? a lot of it has to do with the way i was raised, i think. a lot of it has to do with the way people perceive me, i think. a lot of it has to do with not being secure in who i actually am. how can i be when i don't know a single thing about my other half other than the fact that it is different. so very different from the life i was brought up in. from what people see when they look at me. all of my friends who are mixed have a strong sense of where they come from cuz they can point to their parents and go: those two, combined, equals me. and i love that. i'm also drawn to people who have well-connected, often-large families. they are mostly loud too. so opposite my own family. it's funny. my family is so tiny. so reserved. but yet i always get enveloped in my friends' families' collective arms. they always take me in as their token listener. that's what i do, i listen. and for some reason, i guess b/c they aren't used to people actually listening to them, they love me for that. and i love them for taking me in when no one else wanted me. you can't choose your family. but you can choose who you associate with outside of your family. but i wonder sometimes, why. why do they choose me back?? i mean, i know why i choose them: they're fun, they're outgoing, they're witty, they're a barrel of laughs.... but little ol' me? and back onto my original topic: me. when i look in the mirror, i don't see what everyone else sees, i guess. i just see~ well sometimes i see the most beautiful girl in the world. and sometimes, sometimes i see the ugliest. sometimes i wonder how people can stand the sight of me, cuz even i can't. sometimes i can't take my eyes off myself. if you think i'm vain, sometimes i can be. but mostly i'm just scared. scared b/c this is the only body i have. and every day it lies to me. it lies b/c it doesn't tell my whole story. it lies b/c it warps itself to make me believe one way or the other. i love/hate myself. always the extreme. sometimes people call me beautiful. sometimes people call me typical. sometimes people don't call me anything. and i wonder what they're secretly thinking. i know we're all a lot more critical of ourselves than anyone else. you can see that exhibited when you look at a group photo with the others in the group..... check it out sometime.... each person looks at his or herself only. inspecting themselves. picking, sometimes pointing, out flaws, sometimes keeping them to themselves. but you can see it in their eyes, they don't take their eyes off of themselves, they can see the rest of the group through peripheral vision, but they are focused on themselves.... catch yourself doing it next time. i swear this is true. anyway, back to the original original topic: i can't point to my parents and say - this is me. i can point to my mom. and i can finally accept all that i have received from her. some things genetic, others learned behavior. but what about the rest? is this really what i will have to grapple with the rest of my life? the unknown? what about when i defiantly declared that i didn't need to know? was i wrong? did i miss my boat? my window of opportunity to find out? what will become of me if i never find out? what do i tell my [unborn] children? i'm not ready to disclose to the world just how confused i am about all of these things. i don't know you. i trust you will keep this a secret between us.
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