Sometimes I get this terrible empty feeling out of nowhere. It's like, it creeps up on you slowly, stealthily, and then...
BOOM!
...you're left feeling like someone scooped out all your innards leaving you with one hollow casket.
I don't even know why it happens. It's like one moment you're munching happily away on a bag of potato chips, and the next... You're hit with an emotional atomic bomb. And it hurts. Suddenly there's this pull somewhere near the place your heart is, and the muscles twitch in protest. Your stomach flies up to your lungs and when you try to take a really deep breath you can't 'cause your stomach's in the way. Your heart starts beating rabbit-fast, and you're gulping for air like a fish out of water. Your brain's sending you little love letters saying : 'hey, it's time to feel unloved today. It's time to crave hugs. It's time to feel empty.' Twinges of skipped beats, blurred vision, salty water.
It's all too common now.
I swear, these few days I'm not right in the head. I need a really hard knock back to reality. But thing is, what do I need?
Maybe I just need something to fill me up again. Not food--god knows I've tried that--but something else to un-empty me.
I think (at least I hope) most people who truly knows me will say, that's a girl who doesn't really get affected by a lot of sharp teases or pointed jokes. I guess I'm just too happy-go-lucky for things like this to hurt me. I mean, with my height (and I have to admit, my figure) it's not gonna be an easy life unless you learn to let things like shaded insults or sharp jabs slide. I learnt from very early in life that things like this are better ignored. Things like this should be treated as a joke, and I should probably just let it slide away.
I used to care a lot about things like this, and I used to cry over it. I used to shut myself in a room and look at myself in the mirror asking why am I born this way? I've spent I don't know how many hours scrutinizing myself, poring over this and that. Then I'd grab a pencil and start scribbling in my diary, spilling not only words but salty water. I couldn't understand why they kept doing that. I couldn't understand why they were so cruel.
That was when I was young.
But as I grew up (by growing up I mean in age, not height. Not really.) I began to realize that this is all beyond my control. I cannot help they way I look, or the way I am born. I know it sounds very cliched, but it's true. Why torture yourself over something you cannot help? The time would be better spent improving yourself on something you actually can do something about, like writing, or drawing, or even throwing pebbles into the water seeing if you can hit a tadpole or something. No one is perfect. So what if I'm not?
Learning to come to terms with myself was not a one-day process. It took me years and years to finally grow up, and to develop a thick, mostly impenetrable, skin. I learnt to take jabs as they come and throw them away; I learnt to laugh and make fun of myself. It wasn't fun, but it did make me happier. What are enemies for if not to push you over the cliff and make you climb back up on your feet, reaching even higher?
I guess that's why I tend to make fun of people these days. It's not revenge. It's not even making myself feel better. It's just that I don't mind the jabs, and since you're taking a jab at me, you should be able to take one of mine. But recently, I have to admit, I'm not sure of where I stand anymore. Am I still a merciless teasing friend, or have I become really really mean?
I mean, yeah, I can take a lot, but can others?
But hey, Heads up. Just because I can take a lot, doesn't mean I don't have limits. I'm only human. You can make fun of my height. You can make fun of things that I can't help. But please, lay off the stuff that ruins reputations. I have a reputation to keep, regardless of the jokes I make about myself. If I'm ninety, go ahead and throw my rep down the water-treatment tank, for I would already be halfway down to enjoying my custom-made-vampirish coffin. But I'm nineteen. I have a whole new world waiting .for me out there. I don't need people making my life harder than it already is.
I don't mind certain jokes in private. If you are a friend, and I know you're just joking, I'm cool with it. I mean, friends are supposed to be mean to you so that you know that people out there can be wayyyyy meaner. Friends are supposed to be your enemies in private, but your bestest general in public. They're the best opponent because they know you so well, but they're also, always, your best sidekick.
But once you start being a foe in public, I will start to reconsider your status as a friend. And by public, I mean people who don't know a thing about you, or me, or the jokes that we are used to. The public doesn't know you and me like you and me do. The public doesn't know why I call you certain monikers, or what made you give me that ridiculously shameless nickname. The public only sees what is on the surface, and like it or not, the public will judge. They will judge you mercilessly, and that's when I will have to learn how to let things slide again.
I have learnt to let many things slide, too many times. Now I'm wondering if I've done the right thing letting so much slide off my back. Even if it was for my own happiness. I guess it's time I do a reflection of my own, and see if I'm being too easy, and also if I've breached the border between good intentions and downright cruel and mean with my jokes.
But while I'm reviewing myself, I'm telling you this one revelation I've just had --
When my limit is breached, the things I will let slide will not be the insults or jabs.
It will be you.
So here's a song for you to ruminate on, because what you say will eventually rebound back to you, 'cause I Am Titanium.
