I would say ‘emerge from the drab chrysalis of normality into the colourful splendour of individuality’, but that’s far too pleasant, and makes the process sound straightforward and natural.
I became things when I was little. The masks were so easy to change. I could be one person this week, and someone else the next.
But now we’re all grown up, and it’s time for decisions. We have responsibility for ourselves- our health, our friends, our future- and we have to choose ‘what we want to be’.
And for fear of making the wrong choice, or of donning a mask that everyone else except oneself can see doesn’t fit, we choose to remain a nothing, a nobody.
We wear T-shirts and jeans, when we want to wear beautiful clothes. We pretend to be open and neutral, when really we want to protest and shout our opinions.
We want to experiment and twist language, but stick with what we know people will understand. We want to be interesting, but dare not for fear of the scrutiny it would evoke. We want to take the opportunity, but we are afraid of ourselves; the wrong choices we risk making. We fear taking that step out of normality, and then looking like fools because we can’t match expectations.
We lack confidence. We are cowards. We will never be more than numbers in the census statistics.
Unless we close our eyes and take the step. Dare to dream
“Sometimes you wake up.
Sometimes the fall kills you.
And sometimes, when you fall, you fly.”
Todd Faber, in Fables and Reflections
What do I want to be?
A well-dressed, organic, traditional, wandering, vintage, somewhat mad, romantic, victorian, gothic Pirate-Hippy-Lady-Medieval peasant-Goth-Artist-Witch-Archaeologist-W
This is a pleasant fiction. A person may have a great many facets, but cannot very well express and dress in the associated manner all the time. Some days I feel like peasant blouses, or hippy skirts, and the next I want a dark green corset, or an interesting androgynous suit.
Wear what you want, indeed, but not all at once.
But. Things have changed a little, and though this journal was practically founded on fretting and despairing of my own nature, things are looking up.
So. After this, hopefully such frightfully unhelpful rants will be kept to a minimum. But that is not a promise.
The point of the journal? I have another bulletpoint to add to the list of years ago: To teach myself a lesson in the future. To give myself something to look back on in years to come and