I Get Angry.

November 1, 2010

I love Halloween. It’s quite possibly my favorite holiday ever. However, over the past few years, it’s turn into some sort of trauma-associated day. I’m beginning to wonder if I should start running from it… I know several people that escape Halloween altogether; a friend just jetted off last minute to Thailand not even blinking an eye at the fact that he would be missing what I considered to be the awesomest day of the year.

It started off with a bang… after my Dad left town, I put myself to work on my costume and my portfolio website… 2 yards of fabric, two busted sewing machine needles, and 6 hours later, I went to a party with the roommates, made up of their close friends from high school and college. It was – of course – an awkward evening of Natalie trying to make small talk with strangers who could give less than who shits who she knew or who she lived with. I gave up on trying to remember names as nobody seemed to remember mine and/or even be able to identify my costume: a sheep, not “Where the Wild Things Are,” a rabbit, or a bear. Apparently this is an incredibly difficult concept to grasp. Oh alcohol, you’re full of shenanigans.

Plans I was really looking forward to with friends fell apart… some didn’t return calls and some where to hungover to leave their beds. Had a few bumps on the road of friends and family. Still trying to let my brain recover from the overall trauma.

I stopped writing this blog for a number of reasons. The first blog I ever had was a blogspot… a diary of sorts where I spouted words off the top of my head and my close friends would laugh and cheer me on. I discovered that this was at the expense of the feelings of others – something as simple as my own thoughts could hurt someone if there were transcribed online and vented through a cyber hole in the communicative sphere. This, my friends, was cyber bulling in its purest form… I was venting my frustrations at an invisible audience; this audience – actually – was anyone who found it, and after many mistakes, I discovered that the only way to write online was to either leave people out of it altogether, or to never write anything I hadn’t already confronted the person about.

Now I never write anything I wouldn’t say to someones face. It’s just the safest way to go. Sure, this results in me biting my tongue a lot – while I still use blogs to vent my frustration, often it becomes cryptic and lackluster. It’s why I stopped writing for so many months… nobody would want to read post-after-post of “I’m Angry. Fuck off.” or “I’m so mad at someone I can’t write right now.” That’s how I felt. That’s sometimes how I still feel. Instead of pushing it aside like I used to, I’m trying to look beyond it. This feeling should be fleeting. I repeat. This feeling should be fleeting.

Right now, it’s not. Right now this anger and this frustration is real, and until I can openly talk about how I’m feeling and how I’ve been hurt to the people who have done it the most, I won’t write about them. I won’t pretend that things are okay. I am certainly the worst liar when it comes to faking how I’m feeling; my face is just a projection of my thoughts that I am often approached by virtual strangers asking why I feel the way I look (if that makes any sense.)

But I’m kind of done with it. Sure, I will continue to vent here and spill my guts on the table in hopes that someone else will stumble upon this and have some sort of connection or realization or is given hope to some degree that they aren’t crazy (just me!) I’ve accepted that I’m a fairly bitter, judgmental person, and slowly but surely, I will try to write myself out of it.


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