When I first started this blog, I did it with the intention of having this place be a blog where I could write about all the shit that ran through my mind. I have this thing about not trusting anyone, not because I’m cynical and I think everyone I pour my soul out to is going to run up behind me and stab me in the back, but because I’ve always had a problem with admitting to my feelings. I often catch myself putting at least part of the blame for this characteristic on my childhood, because I grew up with a mother who wasn’t diagnosed with bipolar disorder and depression/anxiety until I was in my teens and so she often expressed her feelings through domestic violence and all that shit (being the oldest in my family, I was often the victim of all of this emotional expression, but that’s not the point), but obviously the blame eventually comes down to me and how I reacted to my life. I didn’t want my mom to see me cry, I didn’t want her to see me react to what she was doing, because then she’d get even angrier and react from that… but I did have the choice to react in a different manner. As a result (well, if you’re into that “there’s a meaning behind this and a reason behind that!!” psychobabble bullshit. I’d like to think I’m not but one can never be completely invulnerable), I grew up with this thing about suppressing my feelings and not wanting to admit to feeling anything but happy, which is still true today. I like to avoid pain and hardship as much as I can, and so I often find myself quitting or taking new routes just to take the easy (aka the foolish) way out. I see this in action when (WARNING: over dramatic analyses follow) I find myself quitting and restarting a game of Hearts after receiving the Queen of Spades, and I see this when I wait until the morning of to study for a Chemistry test even though I’m failing that class, simply because I don’t want to study and I’m lazy and unmotivated as fuck. I avoid hardships, and tell myself that all is fine and dandy because – well, isn’t it?
I’m getting off-topic. Basically, I’m avoiding responsibility and putting all the blame on my mother for who I am, which really isn’t fair at all. That’s the tl;dr of the previous paragraph; now that we’ve established that, let’s get to what this paragraph is supposed to be about. I wanted this blog to be a place where I could let go of all that I’ve been hiding – in a way, I wanted this blog to be yet another “this is my life, I’m fucking complicated and special and I have secrets~~~~ so don’t judge because you should get to know me, you won’t regret it!!1!!” I suppose.
But when I get down to the basics, I really am not complicated. Life isn’t complicated. I am me, I am a California teenager and I like to keep things simple and happy and sad feelings will eventually go away – right? I thought I’d be able to let go of that with a Tumblr the people I knew in real life wouldn’t know about, but of course I was being silly and stupid and wrong. Personalities are personalities – they’re not going to change just because of a silly fucking bullshitty blog. Is bullshitty a word?
This blog was created with the intention of being me, of letting go of all that keeps bothering me because I thought I was fucking complicated~* enough to do so. Obviously, I’m not. And so this blog will continue to be about random matters that run through my mind and out, about things that interest or intrigue me but don’t really make an impact on how I live my life. I’m still going to sound like an overly-confident try-hard who writes with the intention of entertaining, I suppose. But at least I’m not actually an overly-confident try-hard, am I? I’d like to think so.
Writing for the hell of it isn’t too bad. Right?
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