I've always wondered why I can never seem so finish anything I start.
Though I guess "anything" is an exaggeration; I finish poems, schoolwork, most projects. Yet I as an avid writer cannot seem to keep up on a blog. I feel like a failure. cdub would be horrified.
My taekwondo instructor tells us to kiyup (emit a short, low yell while fighting to intimidate your opponent, call attention to yourself, initiate an adrenaline rush and force you to breathe correctly) when we are in a situation that necessitates it: a stressful situation, or a scary one. A point at which you need help.
But if I were to kiyup during school, when the queen bee shoots her poisonous looks across classrooms at me, or at home when tension threatens to smother the lot of us - what would happen then? The cry that I've been taught brings solace and calm would initiate even more problems.
It might seem inconsequential to you, this minute ongoing struggle I have with myself, but there seem to be two me's in my mind. One is quiet (kind of). A rule follower. The math geek (well actually, the everything geek). The girl who tries desperately to blend into the background, now that she has discovered the truth about people.
The other is the girl who's jump kicks are six feet in the air, who can break a board with a punch. Who isn't afraid to yell as loud as she possibly can, even though she's only sparring someone in class. Who almost wishes she could be in a situation where beating someone up is needed.
So I ask myself why the quiet girl is the one who wins out, since the other one is clearly stronger and much more enjoyable to be. And then I remember society, and that the ways of the fun girl equal social outcast. And everyone tells themselves that bull about how they don't care what people think of them, they put up that front of supposed indifference. I called it bull for a reason. No matter how many times I tell people I'm fine, that I don't care, I feel even worse. Because I've discovered two things: only a few people care enough to bug you until you spill (Abby) and that I've evidently become a very good liar. And the former makes me depressed for humanity.