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2月5日 Not perfectI don’t get people sometimes.
Okay, just as a warning—I’m in a bad mood. I’ve had a weekend with no private time, constant movement, and tons of social stuff. And tomorrow, I have to go to school. And the next weekend, I still don’t get any time for me.
Don’t get me wrong—I love my friends, even if they aren’t too big on pressuring something out of them when all they really want to do is scream. Even if a couple of them don’t particularly help me with a bad mood by telling me it’s making them upset.
Do I do that to them after five minutes? I certainly hope not!
I’m stressed, and it’s suddenly ‘back away from Sara’. It’s not—‘let’s make her feel better, or ‘wonder if that’s all that’s up’. Nope. God forbid it could be that simple.
I wish they could get that I’m like them—I need to talk. I need to explain. But no. I’m too honest to ever lie about something like that. Of course, I’m different in that, when I want to talk, I don’t want to burden them, and so shut up.
I’m off-track.
They treat me as if I’m some god—like I need to be pleased at all times. I didn’t think I was that picky. Maybe I’m wrong. I like them for who they are—I don’t care if aunts or grandparents are coming over—I don’t care if they’re hyper all the time. I like them for who they are. But, at the same timer, god forbids that I could ever be upset. Instantly everything’s in chaos, and they seem to avoid me like a plague.
Do I do that to them?
This is why I don’t tell them that I think I should be a nun because I have never really experienced pure attraction for anyone. This is why I don’t tell them that I’m wondering if I’ll ever be a writer. This is why I never mention my dad’s obsession with me being a singer. Will they get it? Will I be knocked off of that precious pedestal that I never wanted, nor intentionally got? I’m a human being, and I’m not perfect. I’m not a saint—I have my limits of tolerance, but I’m so glad that I hide it so well. Not. People say how great I am. I’m not great! I’m fourteen—I hate school and homework, but sure, I do it. I work hard, but mostly ‘cause I can’t picture it being another way. I’m good at writing ‘cause I wanted to be, and as for math and stuff…I only study, if even, for a few minutes, so I don’t know why I’m good.
But can’t I just be Sara again—the girl in the corner? The girl who’s not a saint?
Probably not. 评论 (2)
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