If I were to use one word to describe myself, it would be neurotic.
According to a quick Google search, the word in nontechnical use means “abnormally sensitive, obsessive or anxious.” To make the word more applicable to myself, I would replace that “or” with an “and.”
I despise socialization. I despise boxes and stereotypes and superficial rules. Most of all, I despise the fact that I cannot escape my own hypocrisy.
I can think myself into a hole so deep that getting out becomes an unreasonable chore. The search for “perfection,” or “the right thing to do” or the “smart thing to do” through inward reflection only leads to getting lost in a maze one could liken to a house of mirrors.
The cookie-cutter advice that socially adept individuals love to give people such as myself is to just “not think so hard, don’t try so hard, just be yourself.” Anyone older than the age of 12 understands that any “wisdom” that can be found on a generic inspirational poster is asinine when put into the perspective of the sheer complexity of life. I take this concept from an Instagram reel, but it goes something along the lines of, “people tell you not to worry about how you appear to others while socializing when our entire society is built upon the idea that everyone has to conform to certain norms in order to be accepted.”
Adults like to look down on teenagers for being angsty or edgy, but who can blame them? Teenagers are navigating a world full of contradictions while trying to unravel those that live within themselves, trying their best to create an identity for themselves when society pushes a myriad of expectations onto them, and they’re doing it all for the first time.
This applies especially to those of us who tip-toe across the tightrope of being socially acceptable, fearing the possibility of ostracization equal to the permanence of death promised by the cold, hard floor. It applies those of us who constantly have to water ourselves down in some way, shape or form in order to fit in.
However, I do admit that this is not at all a unique experience. And while anger may be the first reaction to this great injustice, there has to be a logical way of dispelling the resentment that festers, lest it result in oneself becoming undone in an ugly and self-destructive manner. The only solution I have found is to essentially give up on trying to be likable. Stop smiling at people in the hopes that they will smile back. Stop laughing at people’s jokes when they aren’t funny. Stop searching for validation like a wild dog infected with rabies, because all you’ll do is end up hurting yourself and others. Even still, I find such an existence to be equally devoid of purpose. If you fall too far to the other end of the spectrum, you become cold, jaded, and apathetic, being yet another perpetuator of the cycle of negativity that plagues our society. To give into stagnation would be to surrender oneself to the whims of the universe, a tragic, albeit appealing end. All good things come in moderation: that is why moderation is such a difficult state of being to maintain.
As I write this, I struggle to find the silver lining that people so often want to hear from their stories, the hero’s triumph at the end of their battles that provides a satisfying resolution to the conflict. Life is not like these stories. Even if there is a “happy ending,” problems continue to arise, indifferent to your victories and indifferent to your suffering.
I have offered you a sample of my thoughts. Perhaps you relate to them. Perhaps you think this is the cringiest, corniest, most immature excuse of a pseudo-intellectualist’s monologue you’ve heard in your life, tantamount to the ramblings in a middle schooler’s diary. I know that somewhere in the corners of my mind where shame idles like an open wound, I do too. While your opinion of me does matter to me, I think it’s good to be honest every once in a while. I think it’s good to let people get to know you, to be vulnerable in the face of scrutiny, because what else can you do? The catharsis that comes from being genuine, for both your best and worst parts, is akin to that of gambling. You leave the fate of your self-image to the flip of a coin. Do you face the criticism head-on, or do you turn your tail and run?
If I were to title this essay, I would call it “The Laments and Gripes of a Loser and a Coward.”
Even these meta remarks act as rebuttals to invisible prosecutors. For what I am guilty of, I am not sure. But I want to prove myself to the court of my peers as good enough. What a nonsensical concept it is to be “good enough.” To be “worthy” of love or attention or acceptance or whatever you feel lacking in your life. While it is obvious by now that my tongue has been dipped in the bitter ink of bile, I ask that you have some sense of understanding.
I do not consider myself to be a good person, by whatever arbitrary value that may be measured by. However, I still try my best to be one. And while that may not be good enough for you, that doesn’t really matter, now does it?
