I'm tired of pretending I don't want to do weird sh*t.
A post detailing all of my weird little thoughts.
Can I be candid?
Okay, that was a silly question in a space like this, I know. I’ve been spewing my deepest thoughts here since 2023. And yet, when I look over all of my posts and thoughts and overshares, I still feel like no one truly knows me. I actually don’t think anyone can ever know anyone as deeply as I desire, but it’s in my nature to try.
I'm tired of pretending I don't want to do weird sh*t.
Sometimes I want to escape this place, run through the woods, and find my way back to wherever I truly belong.
I’ve fought against my natural state of being for so long. Yes, everyone knows I’m “eccentric”. I watch cartoons and over-explain my feelings and hide away from people in real life like a ghost. But, to me, none of that is actually that weird. I’ve met far stranger people, who do very peculiar things. And I admire them.
I adore the couples on Love Don’t Judge. I watch and I smile, wishing I could find a better half who genuinely matches my frequency. If someone who dresses up like a dog can find someone who dresses up like a cat and fall in love in the cutest way imaginable? Yeah, I should definitely be able to cross paths with my fellow sensitive deep-thinking, somewhat impulsive, story-weaving companion(s).
Instead, I constantly find myself in spaces where people clink glasses while talking about their career and your career and how your careers can help each other’s career. And there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that. But then I look around and wonder, “How did I get here? Again??”
I don’t care about having a career.
I don’t want to curate an image and guess how the public will react to said image. I don’t want to have meetings about the color of an Instagram post. Or talk about what influencers are doing what, and who’s worthy of knowing and not knowing this week. I don’t want to send off email campaigns with perfectly worded SEO. I don’t want to watch what I say or pretend to like people I don’t. When I think about it, a scream nearly escapes my throat.
Sometimes I want to escape this place, run through the woods, and find my way back to wherever I truly belong. Life is short. After my health scares and other scares, I just want to live a life that means…something. I want to have grand adventures, like Tintin…with less brawling and shooting. Actually, with neither. But an adventure still.
But then I open my laptop and type out little words to make myself feel better instead.
The truth is, no matter what I do the MACHINE™ finds me. We live in a capitalistic society, after all. And I embrace it because it’s familiar…even if it’s uncomfortable. When I seek out adventure, people remind me, “Shouldn’t you be doing such and such? You should definitely be doing such and such.” When I embrace slow mundane living, someone lights a fire under me, until I yelp and jump to my feet. “Work!” they shout. “Network!” they scream. And I try, I really do. But then burning out is inevitable. And I’m set aside until I’m healthy enough to be a useful cog in the MACHINE™.
But I’m not a cog, I’m a wilted flower.
I cry at the drop of a hat. Not lately, because I’ve been unusually happy. But most of the time, life’s confusions send me spiraling, curling into a ball of tears. I think I have a lot of love in my heart, though. Actually, I know I do.
I say I’m “not straight” because I have no idea what to call it. I’m drawn to people, no matter the container. I can be attracted to anyone if I like them. But I end up digging my heart from my chest and offering it to the wrong people, who leave it beating in my trembling hands. But I’ve also averted my eyes and sidled past as people have exposed their hearts to me. And I sometimes wonder how they feel.
I personally can never tell if I’m liked for who I am, or for the career people think I have. For the potential people think I have. For the weakness I seem to carry that makes me appear mouldable and agreeable. But I’m neither mouldable nor agreeable. I’m chill to a point, but I have an autistic stubbornness, a tactlessness that no one seems to suspect. I don’t understand unspoken rules, so I don’t follow them. And I’ve gathered that people hate that.
I just want to fall in love with as many people as I desire. I want to write and travel and live in the wind. I want to avoid the MACHINE™ as much as I possibly can. I never want to clink glasses again. I want to wear makeup and listen to music and talk to people who understand me. I want to curate spaces for others like me, to scream into the void to others like them. A greenhouse for wilted flowers.
I don’t want to waste any more time convincing people to value me as I am. Because we’re all born with inherent value. And it’s almost disrespectful to keep trying to convince someone of an objective truth.
After I tie up the loose ends that have been haunting me since my terrible tragedy-filled year, I’ll be reconfiguring my life to suit who I really am. Or, who I’ve become. I am no longer the girl with stars in her eyes, twirling about. I have shards of glass there instead. Remnants of the ways life has shattered me. Things I won’t share because, even after all this, there are some things that are too deep to reveal. But I want them to be stars again.
Anywho! That was long. But I wanted to say I’ve gotten so many submissions, and we have enough scheduled through March. Thank you so everyone whose been brave enough to share your stories with me. Submissions will always be open so feel free to send them whenever!
♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡
Read my surreal novel: How to Be a Better Adult
Read my nerdy self-help book!: The Magical Girl’s Guide to Life
Follow me on Instagram!: @Jacqueaye
Dearest Jacque,
Long time reader, first time poster.
Yes. Much like everyone else who commented, I, too, resonate with this post.
I'm a weirdo black girl currently living in LA bouncing between different creative mediums while finding myself in rooms where people are dying for me to tell them what it is i do so they can judge me and categorize me as appropriate.
Thing is, I convinced myself that I wanted to be in those places for a long time. I thought conformity would make me happier. Turns out, it didn't. It didn't because I didn't care about my career milestones as much as they did. I wanted to know them another way.
It's hard to imagine what we want when we haven't been in contact with it yet. Maybe it doesn't exist yet which makes finding a space where we belong all the more confusing. All we know is what we've been fed: we are cogs in the MACHINE and "networking is essential". When we reject that, we are left in a void of our own making. I believe there's power in that.
I haven't found it yet, but I believe it anyway.
Love,
Sheena
I resonate with this post, especially the pressures capitalism puts on us. The shards of glass in your eyes, maybe that breaking open, means you no longer see stars because you're becoming one.