It did not take me long to realize that writing is how I best express myself. I can get feelings or thoughts out or work my way through things I do not understand. It did take me some time to realize it was one of the few ways I could express things about myself clearly. I mean, I am good talking about events and ideas and things in the media, but I am rather insufficiently equipped to express internal information. I dislike miscommunication, so I have found myself favoring no communication at all.
I clam up. I hold things in. I keep my thoughts and feelings to myself. Oh, my feelings. What are those? Those little buggers that seem pointless and counterproductive. Just suck it up and deal with it (or wait for whatever is bothering me to pass). I am horridly non-confrontational at best and an escapist at worst.
My introspective nature makes me appear morose most times which I suppose I am starting to find myself feeling so more and more so recently. I am mostly good at keeping up a sunny disposition but maintaining smiles can be strenuous. It is just… I do not like bothering people even if I am feeling bothered. It is the peril of being overwhelmingly insecure with a fluctuating (primarily downward) self-esteem.
I find myself trying to fade into the background and I have taken to trying not to draw attention more times than not. I find that puts some people off. If I need to speak to someone or I am waiting for something, I am more likely to stand there for half an hour, hoping you will eventually notice me, than actually do something to call your attention over. I can rarely ask for help or speak up when I should. To be frank, it is as if I am trying to live my life as unobtrusively as possible.
It is not a good thing, but I find it more work to try to do better. I would rather hide in my room and read and bite my tongue than express my concerns or thoughts because the alternative is often worse. The word vomit. The oversharing. The too much talking and saying that takes up time, annoys others, and causes my private mortification later. I have never been really halfway with anything in my life. I live at the extremes of nearly all spectrums.
I am already getting this tight feeling in my chest that comes with actually speaking up. There is not much I could say on this because it does not look like it is changing any time soon. Sometimes, it does not bother me, and I can go out unhindered. Other days, I do not even want to open the curtain or turn on the lights. I am starting to regret every time I open my mouth. Sometimes, I wish I cannot or did not need to speak at all.
I still do my best to engage and be involved because I do enjoy the things I do even if, sometimes, they cause more stress than not. I try not to let my anxiety and skittishness ruin my day or affect others, but I admit this is all coming up now because someone I recently grew close to is extremely perceptive. I feel put off by that more often than not because she does not let me hide as well. She catches onto my moods faster than anyone else I know currently which is frankly a bit scary and often asks me to say what I am thinking when I am trying to keep it in. It is a good thing, I suppose, but when have I ever really been known to fully appreciate good things?
Sleep is for the weak. Three meals a day are for chums. That is all. Thank you for coming to my TED Talk.