Something I struggled with growing up was not being listened to. I felt ignored and neglected (cause I was) and this was a huge part of my life. When I talked I was ignored or reprimanded for not saying what they wanted me to say, not acting exactly how they wanted me to act. Why talk then? If I experience negativity from simply expressing myself then I just won't speak, I will be invisible, like they wanted. I will be pretty, nice, and poised, and I will be the perfect daughter, houseguest, neighbor, roommate, worker, and friend. I will be perfect, and therefore I will fit the unbelievable and unattainable expectations that I could never figure out. I will give them everything they want and more, I will surprise people by giving them what they didn't know they needed. Nobody can compare to how perfect I will be. But it's so tiring to be so perfect, changing yourself for everyone's every need. I am like a lump of clay, being molded and shaped by someone else's mind, to be the perfect shape to fit exactly into their lives just as they want me to. But where do I fit into my own life? How do these people fit into mine? Is this why I can't make friends? Because people dont always want the perfect fit? They just want me? As I am? I don't even know who I am. When you leave clay to sit, it hardens. It hardens into the perfect shape you left it. But when so many need their own meticulous perfect shape out of one ball of clay, it becomes a blob. A blob of their own group creation. And those people are gone now, and I'm still here, left as a blob. A hardened ball of clay that can't be shaped anymore. Now I am perfect for no one. And maybe that's ok.
