Fake It Till’ You Make It

Many of us pretend to fit in, to be normal. Standing out (for the wrong things) is not that fun. We lie to ourselves, to the people around us, to the people we think we love. We hide our true selves because we are afraid other people would not understand. We are a clusterfuck inside, and put together outside.

You know what a resting bitch face is, right? Well, I have a resting angry face. But to be perfectly honest, it is because I am always angry on the inside. Angry at myself, angry at the people around me, angry at the world, angry at the television, angry at the wood floors. I used to get into physical fights, and I loved it because I would win. It got to a point where getting into fights would not even help relieve all this anger inside of me. Makings of a serial killer? Nah, just a misunderstood sod.

I learned how to channel that into music. Writing music, composing music, making music… angry-at-the-world kind of music. Add a little sass and you have punk rock. I jest. As I get older, making music is harder because I would run out of things to write, or bitch about, because I’ve been writing about the same anger issues for a decade now. Listening to music helps with dealing with myself. It blocks out my own thoughts. Thoughts that haunt me. Sometimes they are so loud that I lose. At times so loud that I want to end it for good. But, I know better. I’ve been on both ends. I tried to end it, and I knew people who succeeded at it.

False pretense is the best remedy. They say if you smile, you’ll end up being happy. But happiness feels forced. For someone like me, I have learned how to give in to others. I learned that if you love someone, you take their bullshit. Only because you want them to stay in your life. When you’re like me, it is hard to keep people. They get tired of people like me – people who are in constant pain inside. They call me oversensitive and emotional. They say I am easy to read. They say I should learn how to get over things. What they fail to understand is that people like me, we can’t. We don’t know how to. All we have ever felt is pain. It is what we know. It is what is comfortable to people like me. We want alone time, but we don’t want to be alone. People like me, we fight to smile on the outside because inside is a mess. Maybe that’s why we crave attention. Why we write and publish crap like this. We want to be loved. We crave to be understood. But nobody really does. We get close to people, share a part of us with them. But hide the bits we think they cannot handle. How could they, when we can barely manage it ourselves?

People who are closest to me don’t really know me. It pains me to say it, but it is true. I keep quiet when I want to scream at them. I keep quiet when they say things that cut me. I keep quiet when they do the same things they tell me I shouldn’t. Why? Because people like me, when we find people that aren’t completely annoyed by us, we try the hardest to keep them. Because we believe that no one else will want to deal with us.

Nobody would want to deal with the voices in our head. Some people say their brains never stop working. Our brains did – the voices have taken over. We’re not schizophrenic. We just have demons. Multiple ‘people’ inside of us telling us we would amount to nothing, that nobody would love us, nobody would want to be with someone like us, that we would be better off dead. We fight to live, because as fucked up as our world is inside, we are the ones who love too much. We are the ones who care too much… even when the world doesn’t reciprocate.

To people like me, I say we keep on fighting. One day, we will win.

For those that cannot understand, I leave you something that might give you a tiny glimpse of what goes on in our head.

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