blog-0-tron9000 v2.0


internal echoes
29 May, 2009: [148/365], 21:18.09 [Friday]
Filed under: Uncategorized

Lately, I’ve been having these odd, inexplicable flashbacks to the early-to-mid-’90s. Nothing tangible, but rather something deep and visceral surges through me, and I’m left feeling like I did during that period of time.

I was a young adolescent at the time, ending my elementary education, entering middle school. It should have been an exciting time, when a boy begins to grow up and notice the world around him, to branch out and explore all the possibilities of an opening social life. It’s supposed to be a time when a bridge forms between the carefree, magical inquisition and imagination of youth, and the responsibilities and privileges built-in with coming of age.

But it didn’t work out that way for me. I never felt like I fit in with anyone, and it was more than just the everyday awkwardness that all teenagers experience. I was lonely, even when surrounded by my peers: I had only one or two friends. And in all honesty, I didn’t even feel right around them. I was so messed up inside that I didn’t like to share the deeper, darker side of my imagination. On the other side of it, I never felt anyone believed I could hack it in the maturity aspect of growing up. It always seemed as though I needed to be protected from something, as though I had to remain a child in a growing body, but with none of the novelty, wonder, or joy.

I couldn’t be myself around anyone, even with the people closest to me, and I was like that even up to recent years. I never got the chance to learn what I was, because I tried so hard to be anything and everything that I wasn’t. The girls never noticed me (or were repulsed by me, who knows–or cares), the other boys were in an animalistic territorial mode, singling out the weak to make them appear even weaker and more unappealing. I second-guessed myself every second of every day and knew nothing but self doubt. This lack of self-confidence helped me to become a blacker sheep than I already was, alienating everyone I knew, or at least that’s what I perceived.

It was the worst, loneliest period of time in my life, the entirety of the 1990s. Even the wave of depression I’ve recently been beating back has nothing on that time, as it was a beast of a different nature. I truly felt unloved, at best, by virtually everyone with whom I’d crossed paths.

Anyway, I don’t want to dwell on that anymore. The point is, I’m coming so far along with repairing the wreckage that is my personality, that these sensations I get are so nerve-rattling and it really weirds me out. I really do feel that I’ve got so much to look forward to, and that I’m not the failure I led myself to believe I was, but these flashbacks give me these surges of loneliness and vulnerability that aren’t really there, but they feel all too real.

Perhaps I should revisit various aspects of that time of my life, and show myself that I’m above all that; that it’s not that I didn’t fit in because I was weak, but because I was never on the same plane as the others. After all, I couldn’t care less what others think of me now, why should I still be hung up on what I thought people thought of me back then, especially when most of that was a bunch of trivial nonsense, amplified by my own stupid neurotic quirks.

Just had to get that out there, I guess.

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