growing up

-the realization that life isn't all about you.

i guess it takes a while. i mean, i always knew it wasn't about me. there's seven billion or some shit people in the world who all have different feelings and thoughts and dreams and they're not all gonna stop to serve me what i want. that's always been obvious to me. i'm not the most important thing. but it was always like my life was a movie, a movie in which i was the protagonist and those i despised were the antagonists, and i wanted to destroy them.

everyone i met, i wanted to play them into my game, to persuade them to my side, to hate my nemesis. i gave them a million reasons, from tangible gifts to just being a good friend. i lied, even cried. and it worked. it worked for so long and everyone loved me, called me an inspiration or some other bullshit. but it never meant anything to me. and i could never figure out why.

but now i think i know. because everything i did was crafted by my own hands, nothing they said made me feel like i had done anything right. because all i had done was manipulate them into saying what i thought to begin with. i painted myself as the protagonist and wrote other characters in to follow the plot that *i* wanted. i probably should have guessed that it wouldn't work.

sitting on the bus on the way home, when i wasn't sleeping, i realized it's not a movie. life isn't some stupid fucking fairytale, with princesses and dragons and knights in shining armor riding atop white stallions. there's no exposition, no rising action, no climax, no resolution. oh god, that's the absolute worst. no fucking resolution. it's a fucking rollercoaster and just when you think everything is gonna be okay something suddenly falls apart. your best friend leaves, your extracurriculars drive you insane, or depression threatens to drag you back down again, back into the deep dark hole you've been trying to evade for so long.

defeat is imminent and you can feel it. and you're scared. you're more scared than you've ever been. but what difference does it make if you fall? everyone will just walk past you. they'll kick you in the sides and dirt in your face. spit on you. and not even think twice about you. but what about the people who need you? what about the people who have depended on you so long and you've suddenly disappeared?

what are you supposed to do then?

i haven't posted

in so fucking long.

but you know when there's this sort of like, unspoken connection between two people, and there are no words for it? i'm not in love, i know that. but i feel really, really close to you. and it's probably the best thing i could have right about now.