Insecurity
A critical appreciation of my life in 2220 words, most of them my own'If you let me walk the corridors of your mind, then I'll open up and let you inside mine'
This is the story of my life; it probably wont take very long. I have such high hopes, and such a long way to fall I could try to live a mundane life, in comfort, like a 'normal' person does, and I would be contented. Not happy, but at least it would be better than this emotional roller coaster that is pulling me around at present. The highs are so high, but why do the lows follow with such pedantic regularity? I think back to last night and it seems like another world. I was with my friends, no inhibitions, having fun, and in a way I was happy; jealous and regretful, but happy nonetheless. If only I could go back in time. That old cliché; turn back the clock; live my life over. Why is hindsight such a terrible thing. I know that if I was in the same situation again I'd do exactly the same as I did. We all would. I have a deterministic view of things for today at least. If conditions dictated I followed a particular course, then I'd follow it over and over. At times I think it would be more convenient if I could forget the past altogether, but I can't, it stays with me like a shadow to haunt and taunt me. I remember when I was a little girl. Not everything, but chunks that fly randomly in and out of my subconscious. Everything was so simple then, I'd spend ages philosophising, pondering the earth's mysteries, asking why why why? My insatiable need for information has diminished the more I learnt. I either found out that there was no answer to my questions, or there were many equally poor answers. I also came to understand the futility of this whole affair that seems to be my life. Sure I can change it, but by how much, and for how long, and would things get any better anyway, even if I were to change? I shall tell you about my past. When I was 5 years old, my father died, he was such a good man, such a strong man. A year later my mother was swept off her feet by a sailor. She only saw him for 3 months a year, just another woman in another port to him. He was the world to her. We used to stand, staring out into the ocean, just waiting for him to come home. Then one day we realised that he wasn't going to come home. No, hang on, this is all wrong, I've never even been to the seaside. Sometimes deep down my mind plays tricks on me. I was brought up in a grimy housing estate in Brixton, my father ran off with a much younger woman, and my mother began sleeping around. Or perhaps it was an uneventful middle-class upbringing, and that boring north London semi is the root of my angst. Which of my memories is real? which is correct? which is better? In my mind all are given equal space, in one corner I am building castles in the air, in another I am bulldozing them for redevelopment. Out with the old and in with the new. Whoever controls the present controls the past. In my head I am omnipotent, does this mean that I can choose my past? I knew a man once, he was in love with me for about 5 years. I didn't know how to react, so I reacted badly, does this make me a bad person? I knew another who at least thought he loved me, and this time I didn't want to believe it, preferring to ignore it and hope it would go away. I went away, and so did some of his feelings for me. I have been replaced in his heart by another. She is quite pretty, with minimal intelligence. Am I jealous that she has knocked me off my throne? Does this make me a bad person? I have been in love more times than I have been loved. Does love lessen if it is unreciprocated? I think unrequited love is the purest kind, based totally on ideals which are invariably false. Now I can put it all down to experience and only fall for men who love me back. Last time that didn't help. He loved me, I loved him. Were there any problems? Of course there were. I settled for less than perfection and had the whole lot thrown back in my face. He was not what he seemed to be, the haze around him was caused by chemicals, not love as I had thought. I let him conquer me on false pretences, he violated me, cheapened me, all the times I thought we were making love, he was just crawling inside me to suck out my soul and screw up my mind. My body has taken a beating, but I think my mind was strong enough to survive. Sins of the flesh or sins of the mind, which are worse? If I were religious I would repent, maybe what I have done is morally wrong, but I've somehow been able to justify it all to myself as a product of the society in which I live. Do I really believe that? Of course I don't, its just convenient to stop myself feeling bad for as long as it takes me to forget what I have done wrong. What have I done wrong? Someone like me should never fall in love so easily. I've been told I am too blasé. That is not true. I will prove him wrong. I will never fall in love again by believing my heart. Next time I will listen to my head first. So what's there left for me to do? I can cry, what good will that do? I can pretend that nothing's wrong. Denial. DENIAL. what an amazing block. Its like a concrete wall between my emotions and the rest of the world. What good will that do, its inside that all the trouble is. I don't have to hide my emotions from anybody else, because no one else is interested. I always think that I need someone, but who could love me??? To be special takes a better person than me. There is one who is special. As well as being tall dark, handsome and intelligent, he actually cares. How rare it is to find one who actually cares. The problem is, he cares about everyone. How can that be a problem? In my selfish mind I want to be supreme I want to be special I want to be loved. I watch him, aching for a glance, a smile, and then when I get them I am melancholy as it doesn't mean anything. Just friends. What an understatement. Just. A friend is the most important commodity one can have. But he and I are just friends. What I would not give to be more. But I cannot even say I love him. How can I love him if all his feelings are merely platonic, how can I love a man who cannot love me back? I love him. He's just a friend. I often confuse friendship with something more. Never again. How can I love him if I don't know what love is. Love. The most powerful emotion? So perfect, but the surface is readily scratched. I want love made from diamond, perfectly formed, clear, beautiful and resistant to the outside world that would damage it. It seems ironic that the only thing that can cut diamond is diamond. Does this mean that the only thing that can cut love is love? 'Love will tear us apart'. I always thought that song lyrics have no meaning. I'm wrong again. I can't help feeling that if I found the man of my dreams he'd be too perfect. I cant be happy with perfection, I think I've found it, and I'm not happy. The fault of human kind, progress, always bigger, better, cheaper, easier. Love is not like that, perfection has not become any easier to attain. I know so many girls, physically flawless, but just a shell, which can be peeled away to reveal the void within. I would love to be like this, at the moment I am drowning, but how could I drown in someone who had no depth? I have now found the man of my dreams, and he is not too perfect, he is everything I ever wanted, or at least in all important respects . I may at last have found someone who can teach me a thing or two. Now all I have to figure out is what is going on inside my head. My last experience has left me scarred, but as yet I cannot see the damage, only the surface wounds, which have healed surprisingly well. I need to see in my head, assess the damage, the hidden depths. Sadly, in my search I have been unable to hit the bottom. How can I be deep, when inside I feel only an empty space where my heart used to be? How can I be shallow when in my head there is no room for all the things I need to remember? A meeting for coffee, half an hour late, a phone call still unmade. My mind is on other things. What other things? Nothing? At least nothing I can change. How can the man of my dreams have turned out like this? Nothing more than a clown masquerading as someone special behind a caring smile. It looks like I got it wrong again. My judgement always seems to be flawed, and I never seem to learn from my mistakes. I want to learn. Sadly there is no-one to teach me. My dreams have turned far too cold, and this scares me. Was it Freud who said that dreams reflect reality? I know someone who would know. My best friend. An expert in psychology and medicine and the human condition. Does this mean she understands me? Of course not, it means she can fuck my ex-boyfriend without any guilt. That is illogical, I know, but that is what she is doing, and if she understood me, then she wouldn't doing it. Perhaps I cannot express myself so well anymore. If every day of my life I was to meet someone who had something desirable in common with me, would I be happy, or would I be bored? Familiarity breeds contempt, so maybe my last relationship was the flaw in the beautiful development of my heart. At present it is starting to grow, to flourish, becoming more beautiful every day. I want to be beautiful. 'True beauty always has one flaw, hers was she always wanted more.' My friend told me that I am obsessed with beauty. I suppose that is true. It is an ideal, possibly never to be attained, but once understood, I can turn iconoclast, smash my icon and build a new one that is more fitting. I am looking inside and trying to find God. I am an atheist. I want to find my God, He who is control of my head, He who tells me what to think. After much soul searching, many hours diving to the depths of my mind I have realised. He doesn't exist. 'God isn't dead, its just that He never existed'. He is me, He has always been me. The final piece has been slotted into the jigsaw puzzle of my life, and on examining the picture I can see myself smiling back. It may not be long before someone nudges the table, and the pieces fall back on the floor, needing to be rebuilt again. For now at least I can close the book on this chapter of my life. I am in control of my mind, inside my head is me alone, and the doors are barred to any who try to sneak in dressed as love and steal my heart. I am not without love, in fact I am very much in love, but am at the same time very much in control. Inside I reign supreme, I can be whoever I choose. I choose to be beautiful. I've finally reached deep into myself and found what I am looking for (December 1996)
Copyright 1997 by _sPiDerBaBy_
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