One of the hundreds of things that annoys me about people my age (and there's lots, I'll write a list of them one day) is the way they use the world "love". Two of my friends are in relationships, as of recently, both with people they only met about a week before they started going out and already, apparently, they are in love. They all are.
Within hours, second only to changing their Facebook relationship status, it's screamed over their walls, latched onto their MSN name and at the end of every text. And yes, I'm inexperienced and my opinions are supported only by music and semi-famous people I don't know for real, but clearly they don't actually love this person? It's hard for me to understand how someone that's been in a relationship for an afternoon can believe they love someone, that they matter to them as much as their parents and siblings, and very close friends.
Recently, I battled inside my head with the feelings I had with someone and whether it was being in love. And I remembered an internet forum discussion about a similar thing, and someone saying something like "True love is like believeing you can find all your happiness in one person". And I thought, where is all my happiness? The answer was in writing, in hope that I'll do something useful one day and people will need me for something, and that I know on November 5th this year my best friend and I will go to London and see Imogen Heap.
The question came down to, would I rather the Imogen Heap tickets or a relationship with *insertnamehere*. I honestly had no idea. And that made me realise that if I had really been in love, it would be no contest.
That's what they all need to do.
Another thing that occured to me is that one of the main things I don't like about myself is that I don't really care what a stranger that stumbles on my blog thinks about me, but I care a lot what people at my school do. Recently, twice, I blurted out things I wished I could tell my friends about to two of my email penpals, both who live in America. Neither have replied yet.
Yesterday, I went to see a movie with my friends. I got the bus too early and had some time to kill, so got myself a Costa iced tea and a sandwich from Subway. Walking to the cinema with my sandwich, I saw some people I know, girls from my school that would be cheerleaders if we were American, and felt a sudden urge to hide my sandwich fast.
Why? I want to kick myself now. I care way too much what people think of me. I'm only painfully shy around people my own age that aren't my friends. Did I feel like I was a loser then because of my sandwich, or because I wasn't wearing half as much make-up then, or because I was alone?
I'm going to go now. But I'll come back soon, sooner than I did last time, with some more naked thinking and pointless theories about the world.
If you actually read this, I love you. (just realised that was really ironic). G'night.
Lizzie
No comments:
Post a Comment