How does one come into their own, love themselves and accept what they have put into their own lives and the lives of others? It’s a hard question, I know. Many don’t figure these questions out until they are at least adults, some never do. When I was young, I thought that by the time I got to where I am today that I would have it all figured out, boy was I wrong.
My father always says that I have more personality in my right thumb nail than most people do in their entire bodies. My father has gone senile (and yes I know this is true because on several different occasions I have caught him singing the theme song to Gem when he thinks he’s alone). If I were to fall under a sin from the 7 deadlies (not that I fit under any religion) I would land hardly on sloth. Everything I have in life I forsake. I’m a perfectionist, and a self abusive one at the best of times, but it feels better than lying to myself about what I am doing with my life and have others take pity on my blindness. I know perfectly well that I’m average, in looks, talents, social skills and life in general. Frankly, I’m tired of trying to teach myself different. Because I’m constantly giving my inner me a bloody lip or a black eye about something, I have really no energy or self esteem to do anything different. I have tried religion to cure my problems, the only thing I got out of those experiences was having other people’s beliefs and values shoved down my throat for me to choke on and eventually lose respect for, so I opted out of that gig. Next I tried solace in other people and noticed that trying to gain social stimulus from most teenagers is like trying to cure thirst with sea water. Then I tried art, three years later here I am, with my art, and my art teacher desperately trying to stop me from burning or slashing every piece I create. If any of these experiences have taught me anything it’s defiantly comedy, at least I can still amuse myself, and of course other buffoons as well (spoils all my fun having to share a laugh). So I’ve come up with a solution for my problems, finally, after seventeen years. I’m my own child, and I am the parent to that child. No one can help me but myself. So whenever I say things in my head that hurts me such as “Charlotte, look at your face today, sick!” I say back “oh my, I would never say that to my future child, that would mess their innocent little heads up. Why should I say it to myself?” It works great, kind of, that is if I remember to retaliate in my thoughts. If you haven’t guessed it by now, mental health issues are my issues. Oh boy! There’s one I’ve never heard before, a teenager with depression and low self esteem.
When I hear people say “high school was the best years of my life” I want to throw up. How could it be, especially in a small town? Right now, the goal is to just get into university, and then maybe things will be better, if things aren’t better, I’m going to drop out of society and life in a box on the street. Never mind the fact that I don’t even know if I’m smart enough to get into university or if I even want to look at really old dead people and their leavings for the rest of my life, I’m too lazy to find out if I have the will power to get through all that schooling. Maybe I want to write instead, Charles Smith world renowned writer, that sounds exiting, but what should I even write about? A novel is a pretty big thing and I don’t know if I can do it, and it doesn’t help that every time I say that my parent’s best friend yells things about story boards, I don’t want to do a story board, I just want to fantasize about being a famous author. Really the roundabout point I’m making is that I would rather just live in my parent’s basement and day dream, even though I really want to get out of this little town and do completely awesome stuff with my life. It’s just all so intimidating. Well I really don’t have a choice any way; my parents are going to push me out of the nest whether I like it or not so I might as well be the adult I know I can be. Why did I practically sprint to adult hood just to get on the edge of it and decide I’m not ready yet to jump off that cliff and land in the liquefied world that awaits me at the bottom of the drop? I’m sure everything will turn out just groovy, I hope any way. Really, coming from an average person, I just want my life to be different, such an experience that people always want to hear my stories.
In the end, I would like to leave you thinking I’m not such a glum chum. Not everything in my life is negative, not even half. I guess perhaps my father was right. I’m a different kind of kid with a different outlook on life. Sometimes I’m really happy about who I really am, but only when I’m on my own. I am so inspired when I look at all the beauty the world has in it as well as all its flaws. I love to go into the big city and feel so small under the sky scrapers and yet feel so free to just exist in a crowd of people. I feel little shivers run up my spine when I see the hand of a baby in old withered ones and know that life is just a breath taking process, no matter at what point. I understand that I will grow old, and when I do, that I will be able to look back and see how beautiful I was and how much opportunity I really had. I am excited to experience other nations and cultures, to meet so many characters, to grow within myself. I am so eager to show the rest of the world the girl that some people didn’t accept. In the end, my life is mine to live and I’m lucky to be me.