"Never forget -- the higher we soar the smaller we appear to others who cannot fly."
-Friedrich Nietzshe
All of my life, I never really care what others thought of me. It didn't really matter because I knew I had friends and family who cared about me. I mean, that's all that really counted, right? How I looked was insignificant. It shouldn't matter. But my feelings changed a few months ago.
I started to look in the mirror more. I was constantly messing with my hair, reapplying make-up, making sure I looked picture perfect. I kept repeating to myself that Nobody loved me. No one cared. I was fat. I was ugly. I was stupid. Those words penetrated my thoughts. So that's why I really started to care about what people thought of me. At first, it was just a little extra time in the mirror. Nothing unhealthy about that. Then, I started to starve myself some days. I even started to cut myself because I grew so depressed. It really scares me how I became.
For a few weeks I was maybe out of the loser bin, but I found popularity so unfulfilling. Where there should have been some kind of pride or happiness, there was a hollow space inside of me. Like even though you were somehow accepted into some kind of cool crowd, people still tried to bring you down, even if they said they were "just kidding." And I was the worst to my friends. Sometimes I wouldn't talk to the people I was closest to just because they weren't "popular."
I also found that being in the popular group wasn't as they made it seem. Someone would titter something like, "Yeah, Kim's a freak. Oops, did I just say that out loud?" (when Kim is your best friend) And then everyone world laugh their heads off. The parties weren't amazing or anything like that, just pretty bubble-heads who had never been in a relationship for more than two weeks.
I actually became one of those bubble-heads for a little while.
It was scary, Whyville. Really, truly scary.
But at least my friends saw my somewhere under all the plastic and eye liner. Because after I came to the conclusion that popularity was a waste, I came back to my old friends, who welcomed my with open arms. They were so understanding. They accepted me for the complex person that I am, that we all are. It's an amazing feeling to have when people can see you as you are, and still love you.
I now know that I am whatever I want. It doesn't matter what the world thinks of me. It really doesn't matter if we are rich or poor; good or bad. Because, when it comes down to it, we are all just a mass of flesh and bone, trying to find our way through this crazy, mixed up world we call Earth.
So judge me, see if I care.
book67
