Dear Beautiful Girl with Angst Issues,
I remember being a teenager, high school, and teh crazie that lived inside me. I remember feeling very disconnected. Like I was an observer, and not a participant, in what surrounded me.
It was disturbing, to see, hear and feel yourself doing something, while one part of you was going, “What the hell are you doing? Are you crazy?” and the other part of you was screaming back, “Fuck yes, I am crazy! And I DON’T CARE who knows it!”
It was disturbing to see, hear and feel yourself doing something that you didn’t really believe in wholeheartedly, just because you craved that thin veneer of normality in your life.
I still haven’t found true normalcy. I’ve merely set my sights on “happy” instead.
The things I did and said while in the grip of teh crazie…..I still don’t know or understand why. I still struggle with some of them, when shit hits the fan. And I still don’t know or understand why.
Why is teh crazie so prominent in some of us, so hidden in others and, in some, not at all present?
I grew up in the same house as my sister did, at the same time, with the same rules (more or less)….yet her brand of teh crazie is far more of a socially acceptable crazie than mine ever was. Her’s is more of an adorable quirkiness, while I was/am the one you put on suicide watch every so often.
I would bet money that you, Beautiful Girl with Angst Issues, have wondered and felt the same. I have no answers for you.
I have very little to offer, to be truthful. No answers, no magic bullets, no solution.
Only solidarity, friendship….a heart that understands how you can want to, and not want to, break things, scream, cry, slice, bleed, run, hide………all while craving a “normal” life, though it’s completely un-angst-y to cop to it.
And I want to reach out to you. To simultaneously shake you silly, and hold you close.
But. It’s hard for me to do so. Because even now, this far removed from that particularly craptastic time in life, I still have trouble dealing with the left-over baggage. It left it’s mark on me, in a socially awkward, distrustful type of way. So I’m not very good at this.
Consider this my way of offering a hand, a safe place……I love you, Beautiful Girl with Angst Issues…………..
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