Why am I not there with them?
Disclaimer:
Before I move on it must be known that I am not offended in any way by anyone or any thing nor do I intend to offend anyone. This is not a sabotage of any kind to any one of them who have been very nice to me. The event just triggered a series of thoughts, nothing more, nothing less.
It was after a belated bday celebration – a little one, as is customary. The girls had bought lunch to eat at the foyer while the guys and I were about to head off to Medan. Seeing them there, hanging out like what most other girls would do, just made me wonder, “Why am I not there with them?”
I’m not surprised in saying, I can be so weird. I mean, sometimes genders tend to be clannish – they have a tendency to stick to their own kind and talk about their own stuff that guys just simply cannot relate to, gossiping, tittering, deep contemplative issues, relationships, that kind of thing. Same goes for guys – stuff like football, chicks, gadgetry, cars, tennis and the dirty talk among closet perverts that girls find irksome. I mean this in a more generic sense – not all girl and guy groups talk about the things strictly respective to gender like I’ve listed.
Stupidly saying, I’m a girl too right? Am I not supposed to do what most ‘normal’ girls do, talk about clothes or whatever? And realize that I’d be the plankton among swans in a lake when I don’t know what they mean when they refer to the newest makeup collection Mac has to offer or what the latest trends in seventeen are or even on how to put on makeup (which in truth I have not much of an idea how to)? What the hell is wrong with me?! Even the most nerdy and idiotic of girls will remain girls, and will still know how the basic answers to these things, let alone the true fashionistas who take care that their nails are painted the right colour to match their clothes or accessories and that their clothes show off their best assets (whatever they think their assets are).
And here I am about to listen to more crap talk among guys (“Wah, look! My sei lai and my yi lai over there!” “Look at that chick, she smokes – she’s hot!” – well, you get the idea) and laugh along with them as they poke fun at each other and try to bring colour to their faces either by laughing hysterically over something or the other or trying to expose the closet pervert in each other in a presence of a girl. No prizes for guessing who the girl is.
I don’t know where I fit in sometimes.
I want to be myself, but when and how can I be myself without losing the me that I am to you?
**What used to be here before these sentences enclosed in asterisk pairs are some overly depressing stuff people who know me well would have heard/seen/read before, and I don’t want to bore them with it. As for the people who want to know what this is, well, that’s for me to know and for you to continue wondering.**
Shit. I don’t even know why I think about this, or how I came to think of this. It’s not supposed to matter.
Right?
Sometimes I really hate myself for doubting myself and looking into my faults and wondering why my faults are there. But most of the time I like myself for being unique enough to be what I am without giving a rat’s ass what you think of me – as long as there is at least one, just one person who appreciates me for what I am. I will be nothing nowhere if there is no one for me.
