I love myself. I truly do. Sometimes I think if I were to leave my body as a spirit I would cast some magic spell on my own life wishing her that all her dreams come true and that she dies peacefully alone. Yes, I want to die alone. Let’s not talk about it. Although I love myself, my conscience took a halt. A complete pause, road block, in my mental health train station capital. I was brutally and abruptly, and massively struck with the pure terror of—so what?
Scrolling through Tik Tok, there once was a girl who crossed my Tik Tok for you page, she was obsessed with her boyfriend, she was super hot, beautiful in fact. Some urge brought me to scroll through her entire Tik Tok, linked from her instagram, stalking her tagged, diving to find out where this girl lives. I was captivated by her friend group and her social life, what she wore to winter formal. So intrigued by a pure absolute stranger. Then, I saw her body and for some reason started to hate her. Which is mentally messed up, close your eyes you green eyed monster. Yet, yet, yet, I still didn't want to be her. I didn't love myself any less or became overly critical of my body. It wasn't just her body that inflicted me into this personal rage. I didn't like her style, based on her instagram she looked super popular and borderline “Hi, I’m Britany'' bitchy, and If I met her, I am assuming we wouldn't get along.
Moving forward, underneath these paper thin assumptions of her personality, a deeper part of my mind unravelled on the ground. And in this case, I tripped on it like a type of rope, it tangled me up, and well now I’m writing. I was faced with the reality that there are other teenagers, people my age, not in relation to me, having funtastic-amazing-brilliant-successful lives. The word sonder is a pleasant way to describe this feeling in a way that doesn't make you feel so irrelevant. Unimportant, replaceable, boring, just like everyone else. My biggest fear is being like someone else, but this irrational way of thinking manipulates me to despise anything that's not like me. The arrogance. Bottom line, it weird me out. Weirds me out, and freaks me out. The complicated and dark hole of having an existential crisis is demented. Seeing and experiencing another person's life that I had never met was intimidating.
Through social media, our perspectives and realities of other people are completely distorted. I look at my instagram and hope people understand this is what I am actually like, but that is not where we are today. Subconsciously, everyday, you are assuming parts of people and what they are like based on what they post. Now tracking back to the whole I love myself talk I was working with, the root of this epiphany can be uplifted by one simple statement. Nothing matters except for me. I don’t actually care about this girl or her life or her boyfriend, but for some reason I did because I was threatened by her entire existence. If someone is a psychologist and can help me understand what my mind is doing, please email me. Bottom line, I won’t think about this girl again because I won’t care about it tomorrow. The true reality is, no one ever really seems to care. So keep doing what you're doing because the only person that matters is me, and you of course, maybe, but mostly me.
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