I feel strange.
I used to think I was the strangest person I’d ever met, until I visited Orlando and turned on the local news. There’s a lot of fucking lunatics in Florida, eh? Anyway, it isn’t long after I’ve met someone that I start feeling this powerful urge to walk right along the lines of social boundaries, always teetering as far over the edge as I can get away with. And I’m not a psychopath, okay? It’s my way of weeding out the weaker beings. I am genuinely pleased when I meet someone who loves the game as much as I.
Oh, if I could offer you one piece of advice about life, it’s to stop hanging out with squares who don’t appreciate you while you’re still young enough to laugh at yourself. I would guess that all of us know somebody like that- the person you’re only friends with because you’ve known each other for an eon? That friend holds us back, man. We’re always evolving, and maybe one day we begin to notice that they are not “becoming” alongside us. There’s a certain comfort and fierce loyalty when it comes to an old friend, though, isn’t there? You just kind of wander around together, because it’s better than wandering around alone. And that’s bullshit, too. We have some of our most brilliant thoughts when we’re alone, don’t we? We lay there lost in our minds, and we are free from scrutiny. We’re honest.
I don’t know about you, but I always felt like I was busting out of my skin in junior high. I was all like “Who am I?” and “Why don’t I have any boobs?” I am saddened at the thought of how much time I spent going through my closet of personalities and putting on the one that seemed the most appropriate for the occasion. They say the clothes make the man, right? I absolutely disagree. No amount of fancy evening wear could hide the holes in my soul. It didn’t hide the awkward, uncertain way that I walked or the hesitance in my voice. I may have fooled some, but I was never convinced myself. I wish I could tell all of the 12 year old girls out there how to navigate their way through the total fucking mess that is high school, but I can’t, because I sucked shit at it. I guess what I CAN do is tell them that it gets better. The real world is tough, but the mirror in the girls’ locker room is tougher, if you ask me.
There is a feeling unlike any other when you finally meet one of your own. It’s this giant rush of relief. Once you’ve felt it, you realize that life before was actually just this throbbing wound that you grew to accept, and they came along with this giant scalpel and cut you open to remove the cancer beneath the surface. I firmly believe that this is all that it takes to light a fire because if there is one, there may be others. And you grow, and you grow, and you grow. And maybe you like yourself a little more because, well, they do.
Yeah, it’s awesome. Go on and get you some! It’s easier than ever to connect with the people that think you’re fucking awesome. Put yourself out there. Confide in someone. Allow them to confide in you. Have farting contests. Bond over pocket pens. Braid each other’s pubes. Whatever. It’s the best thing in life.
Also, don’t take yourself too seriously. People are not as interested in you as you fucking think they are.