As an opening that contradicts the title of this post, my junior year has gone much better than my sophomore year.
I guess I hit my medication stew on the head for once, because when September rolled around, I was organized, hardworking, dedicated, and most of all, inspired. This year I took AP classes for the first time - two of them - and to begin with, they were going well. I remember thinking how proud I was of myself for handling my academics so well in comparison to my sophomore year, when I rebelled against everything academia and harbored a secret self-hatred because I wasn't meeting society's standards. This year I started meeting society's standards. I juggled theatre, AP work, my personal demons, a relationship, my job, and tried to maintain some form of a social life. As one could conclude from my lack of blog posts this year in comparison to last, I've been busy. Busy being "productive", I guess.
But I can welcome back that self-hatred now.
Maybe it's because that medication stew isn't working anymore. Maybe it's because I'm burnt out. Or maybe it's just because the demons I stuffed away in a drawer can't stay there anymore; maybe I can't continue ignoring the cracks in my foundation. It's probably all of those things, to an extent.
Here we go: I've never been able to stand answering to other people or justifying myself. I don't make excuses for who I am. I won't. I shouldn't have to tell them why I am the way that I am; all that matters is that I am, and that should be accepted. Once they accept that I am, they'll have a chance at understanding why I do the things I do. But the truth is that the only reason anyone would ever try to understand the things I do is if he or she had a problem with them, and that problem would inhibit him or her from accepting that I am. They can't accept me because they don't understand me, they can't understand me because they don't accept me.
Maybe I don't want to work the way society wants me to. Actually, maybe I can't. How many studies now have proven that humans don't all operate in a uniform manner? For that matter, many times have we, as members of this society, been told that we're a "special snowflake"; an individual? How many different ways has it been broadcasted that you should "be yourself"?
Funny, how blatantly contradictory our society is; how it doesn't even notice it's own double-messages.
You're an individual. You're so special, there is no one like you! Be yourself, and love yourself for being different! But here's a template. Fit it. Your brain should be able to work this way. You should be able to operate in an academic environment; you should be able to handle this rigor to the point that we can stamp an "A" on your little individualistic forehead and hand you the same diploma every other special snowflake is getting.
This is what we're fed. The American Dream: find your way, make your dreams come true the same way as everyone else. All I've gathered from The American Dream is that every child should be numb and bitter by the age of fourteen. But maybe that's just me.
The real kicker of this entire subject, for me, is that as much as I criticize our society, as much as I realize how wrong it is, as much as I tell myself I'm okay for not fitting the template, I still can't shake the idea that maybe I'm the wrong one.
It's my fault I'm struggling. It's my fault that I can't meet the standards of my teacher, my guidance counselor, my advisor, my therapist, my parents, my peers. It's my fault that I'm not able to juggle theatre, AP work, my personal demons, a relationship, my job, and maintain some form of a social life. "Other people can do it," the voice in my head tells me. "Why the fuck can't you?"
I collapse under stress. My fault. I come to class unprepared because I can't get my shit together. My fault. I'm inherently right-brained. My fault. Even though I'll sweep the writing and reading portions of the SAT like I've done it two million times, I'll probably fall too short on my math score, prompting the colleges to say, "your fault."
Yeah, I hate answering to other people, but that seems to be all I do recently.
This is why I think this. This is why I feel this. This is why I made this decision. This is why I'm acting this way. This is why I can't handle that. This is why I can't meet your standards; this is why I don't want to.
Because I think differently. Because I feel differently. Because I operate differently. Because I have my own priorities. Because I hurt. Because I'm breaking down. Because I'm not fucking like you. Because I fucking can't be.
And I guess I'm just not strong enough. I guess I'm not strong enough to handle the things society, and everyone else, thinks I should. I'm not strong enough not to write this post. And that's my fault.
I'm strong in a different way; my strengths lie in different places. My strengths lie in functional relationships, knowledge of reality, empathy, sympathy, priority. I'm strong when it comes to feeling things, understanding abstractions, and expressing myself. But who's measuring any of that in this society? No one. I don't have what's being measured. And that's my fault.
I just wish society would be honest. Either tell us we're special and our individualism should be cherished, cater to our individualism, and don't expect us all to operate the same way, or openly expect us to operate the same way. Don't pretend that what makes us special matters and then let us fall down hard and break our bones on the realization that it doesn't matter for shit. Tell us from the beginning. The former is idealistic. The latter is more likely, and is the option that breeds just as much self-hatred as the mix of the two that we have currently. I guess it all breeds self-hatred because according to this society, I just deserve to hate myself. Because it's my fault.
So I guess that's it, then. Society says we're special and should be true to ourselves, but then tells us exactly why we shouldn't be special. I've been told that I'm "blessed" with the "special gift" of insight, of personal voice, of abstract and philosophical evaluation. But that blessed gift doesn't have a place in the mold into which I am expected to fit. Tell me; if I'm so fucking "blessed", why do I have to change myself to look appealing to colleges? Why can't my blessed ass get the 4.0 that I want, or even cope, emotionally and mentally, with what this system hands me? Where will that fucking blessing be when I go in to take my SATs and completely bomb the math section? Where will that fucking blessing be when I'm 30, discontented, drinking alone and wishing I could have made myself what I wanted to be in this society?
It won't matter. I won't matter. I don't matter. And I guess that's my fault because society told me so.
