August 21, 2001
Epiphany at 2:01 p.m.
When I signed up for my diary I wanted to be witty, I wanted to be captivating and smart and charismatic. I wanted to share with the world the parts of myself I most enjoyed.
But I have come to know myself through this diary more than any other I have kept. And I have discovered one thing.
I am just like everybody else. My jokes are as desperate of a ploy to hide my insecurity as are everyone elses'. I am jealous of girls that are prettier than I am and pity the girls that are not as pretty. I am shallow. I try just as hard to fit in with the "out" crowd as other kids to do fit in with the "in" crowd. But above all, I am weak.
I am a weak girl. I would gladly set aside my own happiness to make him happy and then I will become angry at him when I discover how truly upset I am. I exploit his love for me and pretend that he does not exploit mine. I am as flawed a human being as those I mock. I will never be perfect, I will never be as close to it as I would like. I am not generous or thoughtful or unselfish. I am not humble and careful and appreciative.
I am not any of the things I aspire to be.
I venture out into this world as unsure and self-obsessed as everyone else. Except I am worse. Because I have wasted my time thinking I'm not, thinking I'm somehow better because I understand everyone else.
And I do. I understand all of their shallow dilemmas and their petty grievances and their desperate crushes and their foolish pride. I understand it all and still managed to never see myself in their faces. I am just like them.
I am just another worthless, egotistical nobody that had herself convinced that she would someday matter.
And that makes me worse. That makes me much worse.
astera at softly