Musings.

I’m a very critical kid. I critique myself all the time. I analyse things at a molecular level.
I try to be politically correct, polite and mature- most of the time at least. This is my way of looking at myself in the mirror. But yeah, I guess it’s more like looking at myself under a microscope. I really don’t like it, and I’m sorry if this adheres to some kind of perfectionist complex. But I’m trying to get to a point.
So anyways I go through phases of making sure my hair is perfectly straightened. This pernickety obsession reached new heights when I decided to cut my hair one length. I always try to be organised and neat. But then I go through phases where I am apathetic-I’m late for the bus, I don’t bother with my hair, I don’t bring all my books to school and I’m basically unapologetically lazy.

So naturally during the school holidays, I self reflect. This self reflection isn’t something narcissistic; at least I don’t think so. School holidays provide the time to actually look back and think even more critically of myself. But most of the time I don’t, I get over trying to be someone different and instead I focus on various creative projects (writing, studying, making collages, painting). The truth is: I hate being critical, because this evidently leads to depression and low self esteem. I am clearly not a very confident person, though I can be at certain times. Confidence is something I’m working on, but I feel that I will first need to settle a game of tug o war.

This game exists in my head and is resurrected during the school holidays. During this time it is more than alive (it smiles exuberantly-dimples showing) and the battle instead becomes a ferocious game of survival.

There is a side of me that longs for change. The spokesperson of this side (which bears a striking resemblance to a satanic creature featured against a backdrop akin to some kind of netherworld) claims that I am very capable of being classy. It begs for shopping opportunities, new hair styles and basically a sense conformity that would bear well with the ‘in’ crowd and would garner more advice/fashion tips from friends.

The other side likes comfort and individualism. This is the side that is effortless in it’s quest for dominance. This is the true me, the klutz, the kid who doesn’t try hard to dress up or look good, because she feels that it is overrated.

Anyways this battle is aggravated by spectators, who have a kind of dark magic that would prevail against Tinkerbelle’s fairy dust any day, It’s called ‘influence’- and this basically keeps the game going, the dice rolling (cliche's are endless my friend) and makes sure the tug on the ‘underdog’ end is much stronger. Hence I am plagued by thoughts of trying to change. Don’t get me wrong, I love clothes and fashion but most of the time I am compelled to visit bookstores and instead of reading teen vogue I’d read classics or science fiction. These are my interests, things that you could never take away from me.

So yes, this is probably some reversed coming of age story, but this is what is troubling me. It may seem superficial but I cannot for the life of me let go. There are certainly times where I am adamant on being static and other times that I just jump around and stay in the air wishing I was different and people didn’t see me as ‘innocent’ or ‘cute’. It’s sad really. This is all really sad.
But I am going to find a middle ground. And I’m pretty sure I can.