Sometimes I feel so horribly guilty about stuff that I shouldn’t give a second thought to that I wonder if there’s something wrong with me. What is more likely though, is that it’s society telling me I should feel bad and should act a certain way and look a certain way and feel a certain way, and if I don’t then I’m an outsider. I’m wrong and the trendsetters are right and I should go think about what I’ve done. Shame on me.
I go through phases of trying to eat mostly plant-based food (lol tonight I had nandos and mug cakes and two kinds of cheese) because it’s good for me and it’ll make me healthier and thinner and stronger and people will nod and clap and cheer. YAY GREEN JUICE. And then I remember Biscoff and tangfastics and it’s like, sorry broccoli hun, not today.
I go through phases of trying to dress differently. I try to buy things that other people will approve of and get flustered and annoyed if I leave the house and something doesn’t look right because the thought of those strangers judging me on the tube is awful. Then I remember I like floral things and I like being warm and I like having comfy feet and it’s like, sorry over-priced, uncomfortable, not practical shoes, you gotta stay at home today.
I also go through phases of trying to alter how I act to change people’s perceptions of me so they’ll accept me quicker or think I have a different, more appealing life than I really do. Then I remember that’s just a shit thing to do. It’s just so lame. And all other words that mean the same as lame in the theosauras. All of them.
This has been in my drafts for a while and I’ve never found time or really liked the way it read to finish it and hit publish. But this week has been a week out of the ordinary and for the first time in ages I haven’t even felt a glimmer of those thoughts, which might be why I can finally finish writing about them.
It’s just so ridiculous that we all go about our lives concerned over what others are doing and looking at photos of people famous for doing not much else other than pouting on Instagram and having desirable eyebrows.
It’s when unexpected things happen that thoughts like ‘I don’t want people to think I don’t double cleanse my face and eat courgetti’ become so bloody stupid. Like, what is our problem? I would rather not have so many bad, sad or down times that force me into putting things into perspective, but it’s definitely good on occasion to remember that I am what’s important, not strangers or judgement from people I likely would never share a friendly word with anyway.
It gets bad sometimes. It gets so bad that I want to tell myself that I can’t sit with us. I would rather I go away to a corner and stay there. It would be grand if we could sometimes take out our overly conscious brains and stick them at the back of the wardrobe while we have some time off from worrying about appearances and how happy people think we are. There’s a market for personalised brain boxes on Etsy and I said it first.
It’s not a groundbreaking, genius or bold statement, but wouldn’t it be good to keep our head together and in the real life game the way it fleetingly feels when we’re reminded that there are things way more important and meaningful to spend our brainpower on.