insecurity

Summer.

Attachment-1

I hate Summer.

I hate it with every fiber of my being. For all the reasons everyone loves summer, it’s all the reasons I despise it. I hate the heat. I hate the sun, I hate it’s warmth that embraces me in it’s brightest hug. I hate the over exposure of the sun that lasts on my skin. Turning every inch of my skin different colors that burn to the touch.

I hate it.

This over exposure of skin that showcases all my imperfections. The sun doesn’t allow me to cover up my insecurities and flaws. Instead my skin is out for everyone to see and judge. I can’t stand that feeling. This feeling that with every bright ray of sunlight, I have to hide an inch of myself. I want to cover every inch of myself in layers, hide every inch of my insecurities, but I can’t. Instead I hide behind closed doors until the heat of the afternoon rays, turn into moonlit skies and breezy nights.

I want to hide every inch of myself until I am ready to appear. Hide from the masses until I am perfectly okay with myself. I hate that you can’t hide from warmth. You can’t hide from the sun that follows you like a shadow every step you take. Every freckle burns on my skin from these memories of the past I just want to forget. Closing the books on summer looks and yearn for the layers and falling leaves of fall. Let me have one more day of Spring. One more day of overcast skies and foggy mornings. One more day of layers that hide my skin from the sun. One more day to hide these scars from the world, another day of long sleeves that keep all my wounds secret.

I am the worst person to myself when the sun comes out. All I want to do is disappear until the sun goes down. Do we ever really forgive ourselves for the things we say as the sun illuminates our face? We don’t. I can’t help but become the monster everyone says I am. Its the monsters in ourselves that we are often afraid of. What’s one more?

Summer comes. Summer goes. I can’t wait for the heat to leave this town and leave this lingering feeling it leaves upon my skin. In the shade, behind a veil of layers I will stay. Watching the leaves dry and fall from the trees until there is nothing left to shed.

6/7/2006

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8/21/2015 – Day Ten.

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Life has been nonstop since the beginning of this trip. So much that at times I feel suffocated with the day to day activities. Some days my body can’t take it and other days I can’t help but force myself to solider on. I put my mask on better than everyone, but being so far from home doesn’t make sense, to force myself to be who I am at home. I rinse off the day and go on my way. Barefaced, hair a mess and pray no one notices me.

When you get older you stop caring about how you look to people. You reach a point where the only person you really care to impress, is yourself. After turning 30, you lose a sense of insecurity about appearance. What I used to care about in my 20’s, has completely disappeared in my 30’s. I have always been insecure about my weight and appearance but when you’re far from home, you really stop giving a shit. I don’t care what people think of me. I reached a point where the mirror holds two faces, Who I see and who I feel. Sometimes I don’t even know who I am anymore. When you face yourself without masks, without makeup, without any trace of your superficial self, you get a sense of who you really are. I am not my eyeliner or mascara or any of the thousands of creams I use on my face. At the same time, I am not the barefaced individual I see before me. You lose a sense of identity after years of hiding beneath masks, but at the same time you’re faced with the reality of how you really feel about yourself. As I inch closer into my 30’s I realize that every year I lose a layer of insecurity that I thought I needed before. I realize that going out of the house without makeup isn’t the end of the world, even if at times I felt as it was.

Lately I just want the rains to weigh me down and absorb into my skin. I want the water to match the streams that fall from my face. I want a lot of things. Mainly to slow down enough to truly enjoy the rain and not run from it. Running for cover to shield myself from the downpours. I want to breathe again and honestly feel the air rise and fall in my chest and into my lungs. I watch as the shell of my former self breaks down at what she used to love.  I feel my heart turn to glass and know that at any given moment it will break. When you are occupied with your surroundings you push everything you feel deeper inside of you. I wish I could put into words how it feels. The faster moments come, the sooner the come down. Slow down, relax, feel the weight of the rain on your skin. I just want to stand in silence in complete aw of this large city. Sit and watch the views. Watch as the sky clears.

Barefaced, hair a mess, and feeling fine.

8/7/2015 – Day One.

If we have to be honest, nobody likes admitting defeat. Nobody likes to admit they are wrong. Nobody in their right mind can admit to feeling any ounce of pain, when the rest of the world is feeling otherwise. Which is why in many instances we hide how we feel in the fear of seeming crazy or vulnerable. Because we were taught at a young age that showing a tiny fraction of vulnerability would be your ultimate downfall. We all want to be strong, we all want to be right, we all want to be just fine. As you grow up, the world changes. Now a days everyone wants to express their feelings. Everyone wants to admit they’re wrong and show their faces through feelings of weakness. How do you give up a lifetime of hiding your feelings, into tiny moments of vulnerability? How do you change the fear of feeling hurt when everyone wants you to embrace your pain? I wonder why it takes longer to forgive when we’re faced with everything we are trying to forget. I just haven’t gotten to that point yet.

The past few days I’ve felt more emotional than usual. I have cried more, complained more, fought this inner turmoil of the devil and god that continues to rage inside of me. As of recently I have begun to develop a paranoia of telling anyone my problems. As of lately I have been keeping a lot of my worries to myself. Its stupid, I shouldn’t do it, and it only makes me feel worse inside. However, I just don’t care to deal with the “What you should do”, “When that happens to me”, usual verbiage. I guess in a weird way, I want to confess how I feel without judgement. Without the shame, without someone stopping me to tell me their story. I feel suffocated with words but to express them would be my greatest downfall. I am not prepared to hear the outcome of my worries. I am not ready to express my feelings without worry or doubt. I am not ready for people to come in and nitpick my feelings and tell me how to change them.  Today of all days, I don’t feel very much like myself. Today of all days I want to shout to the heavens to hear me out. Today of all days I want to get out of this suffocated feeling and get out of myself. Even if it’s just for a few hours.

As I had mentioned in my previous post, I have a hard time doing things alone. I have this anxiety in regards to my peers that paralyzes my social interactions. I can’t explain it and even writing it down, I have a hard time believing it. I am fine when I do social activities with my friends. I make jokes, I amuse myself and others, I over exaggerate situations, but to do anything on my own I am frightened. At any moment something could jump out and take me out of the safe bubble I am in. When I am on my own, I plot my strategies and plan my exit routes. Everything I do alone is perfectly calculated and memorized. You don’t know how frightening life can be when you can’t do things alone. I can’t tell you how this started, I can’t tell you why it continues but I can say that I can’t do this anymore. This never ending waiting for people to come in and help me realize my frustrations. Today of all days, I just need a moment to collect myself and get out of my current frustrations. If I had it my way, I’d run away to the highest hills. Into the deepest forests and away from civilization. However, I also have a huge fear of the great outdoors which limits my hiding places. On the days when I need to get lost within myself, I hide in plot lines and other peoples stories. I hide between melodies of film scores and conversations of other individuals written words. I have been in love with film for as long as I can remember. As long as I can pretend to be someone else on someone else’s time. I only as of recently started going to the movies by myself, as a way of entertaining the idea that I can do things on my own. But how many of us are really alone when we are attached to our cellphones and social media? For the past few days I have deleted all social media on my phone (which the exception of Snapchat). Since I haven’t been feeling like talking to many people, I haven’t been social with very many people either. It is no fault of anyone and under no fault of my own, I just feel this need to be on my own and alone.

Since giving up on social media, I have limited my outlets to be social. I have always been distracted with taking photographs and immediately posting my whereabouts on social media. The last couple of days, I just haven’t felt like showing people how I feel. Showing people what I’m doing, who I am with, or even giving people a glimpse into my life. I don’t care if anyone reads what I have to say, but to see what I am doing is causing a huge paranoia that I don’t need in my life. Everyone is quick to judge my hypocrisy but never want to comment about what I am going through. I really don’t know who I am without my phone in my hand or a camera in front of my face. I have almost lost my identity just pushing objects in front of my face to hide who I am. Getting lost in someone else’s idea of reality gives me a chance to breathe. A chance to pretend that someone else’s life is connected with my own. I’ll be honest, I don’t like the movie theater in my hometown. The snacks are lousy, the popcorn sucks, and they don’t have any fancy soda fountains that the other theaters do. If I had my way I would watch every film at The State Theatre in Modesto or The Vine in Livermore or Archlight in Hollywood. However, I live quite a bit away from all of those places, so the AMC Theater in Manteca will just have to do. I have my movements calculated that going to that theater is almost routine. I follow the same roads, I park in the same spots, and I just know what I am doing before I am doing it. It’s a routine I follow every time, mainly insuring that I always have a parking spot, another that I avoid every human contact possible until I reach the theater. It’s just little things I do to give myself a moment before I have to be faced with interactions of any sort.

I don’t know what I am doing anymore. That’s a fact. I find myself rubbing my hands together in frustration just trying to calm my nerves down. This anxiety of being alone and with no one to comfort these fears. This fear of being completely open without saying a word. I didn’t realize how much I depended on my phone. How much I depended on communications from the social media world. How jaded I have become from the faces I see in front of me, just by staring down on a tiny phone screen. I almost don’t know what to do with myself. What do you do when you can’t occupy yourself and your fears with a tiny digital underworld. I arrived to the movie theater early and after deciding to see the film “Southpaw”, (mainly the curiosity of the film being Kurt Sutter’s (Sons of Anarchy) first film script and second being the beautiful beast of Jake Gyllenhaal), I had time to kill before the movie started. You don’t realize how much you separate yourself from the real world when you’re focused on the digital world. You have a habit of forgetting how you got through life without a phone attached to your hand. I found myself sitting on a bench waiting to be let into the theater. Sitting, thinking, analyzing, wondering, people watching. Life has a way of wanting you to photograph everything. Every passing moment that happens right in front of you. I found myself fixated on these phantom photographs of people that passed in front of me. Men, women, and children, their variety of reasons for being in the same place that I was. For different reasons or this comfort of being surrounded by the people they cared about most, intertwined with someone else’s idea of reality. My hands still twitched, feeling this need to tell someone how I felt. Show people everything that I was seeing. Instead I rubbed my hands together and kept everything to myself.

Southpaw

I love films that give you this mystified way of feeling tragically heartbroken and happily moved. For my current state, I thought the film was great. I thought it truly emphasized this need to overcome demons and prove that people can be better than their past. I loved that it allowed me this need to escape from what I was feeling and transport myself into someone else. I know I am not okay. I know I have fears of doing things alone and being able to do something like this takes everything I have inside of me. To give this false illusion of being somewhere else in my mind, allows me to breathe again just for a little while. I have 99 more days to go and I wonder how much longer I can take it. How much longer I can continue before I completely break. Then again, maybe I am suppose to break in order to be put back together again.

Only time will tell.