A very interesting phenomenon self deception is.
When I was first sent away, I was hysterical. I was absolutely devastated and wasn’t shy about it either. I mean, I had completely fucked up my life to do drugs and hang with the cool kids. Once they were gone… what did I have? Nothing. Nothing but the fucking Utah desert and the fucking ***-hole I had dug myself into. It’s like that morning after a drunken stupor feeling- only times a billion. It was just mind blowing-ly overwhelming and I couldn’t do a thing about it. And yet, there is no denying that in the back of my mind there was a presence of relief. It’s over Sam… no more fighting…you lost now give in.
The self-deception made my circumstances actually kind of enjoyable after a while. On the one hand, I knew this Rehab world was not my real society and so I felt no pressure to engage socially. I didn’t give a *** what these girls thought of me, I just wanted to spend every moment I could out of reality. I read, I wrote, I spent a lot of time isolating. It was nice in a way not to feel any loyalty to my immediate surroundings because I felt so attached to my old one, “the real one” in my mind. And on the other hand I was silently glad to be out of my old lifestyle. It was seriously draining…
Until High school, I never had to function as a small fish in a big pond. I was used to attention- not just attention- but praise. When I had to walk down hallways, up flights of stairs, past unfamiliar gazes, and sit in crowded classrooms- I don’t think I could ever fully comprehend that this was school. I made it a point to secure some kind of role in my giant community. I would not allow myself to be just another sheep in the herd. But I did become one- Just in a stupid herd. I was in a herd of black sheep if you will; still a conformist only wearing nonconformist eye-liner.
I always had this desire to be an authentic self. Standards scared me because I never wanted to be a reflex of someone else’s opinions or expectations. But I was. I believed people expected me to be to be crazy- that they lost interest when I didn’t shock them. I became a reflex of expectations I perceived, ones that probably didn’t even exist. And I grew tired and week from the self-perpetuated pressure. I was ready to surrender.
My circumstances in college were similar. It’s not so much that I was starving for attention. Cool wasn’t on my mind as much as comfortable was. But I think I put too much pressure on myself. I’m a bizarre fucking human being. I think I’m asking too much from my weird self to be comfortable being my weird self in every social situation. Especially when I’m so tuned in to peoples judgments. I think I need to be a reflex to some degree. Nod, smile and walk away rather than fight constantly to be accepted for who I am. I know that I need to express myself, I mean; I plan to make a career out of it. But I have to conserve my energy a little better…
Today I feel that same essence of comfortable withdrawal that I had in rehab; the motivation to diligently pursue graduation with the desire to open up and enjoy the ride. I have enough confidence to know that my opinion is worth-wile. What I have to say may be unconventional at times but I know it holds some truth. I can’t put all my efforts toward convincing my immediate surroundings of this, I have a role to play not just in my social circle, but in my classes, in my college, in pursuit of my career, and in society as a whole. I have to be a contributing member to something larger than the here and now in order to be a whole person. And even though I yearn to be understood, and yes, even praised, I have a better shot at getting my messages across through diligence and hard work. Not many people really want to listen to my inarticulate banter, but they may want to read it in the form of edited sentences or view it in the form of avant-garde art.
Tune in next time for Sam's opinion about sex.