I’m an emotional person. I used to take offense to such a statement from my friends when I was in high school. When they called me emotional, it meant that I was a crybaby. And that’s the truth. I cry a lot—probably now more than ever. I don’t necessarily cry on a week-to-week basis but I definitely can cry just thinking about my parents or watching a movie with a sad scene. Maybe it’s because I’m older now and jaded by the expectations of life. I’m living by myself and I’m understanding what it’s like to be lonely. I’ve gone through so many ups and downs and it’s slightly depressing that it’s only going to continue so. The reality is that life moves on and me being an emotionally-driven person is something that’s just embedded in my personality. Sometimes, I’m a boss ass bitch and I can control those emotions. Other times, I’m beyond anger, hurt, and sadness that I can’t help but lash out. But mostly, I cry. It’s not beautiful but it’s cathartic.
I’m selfish. I’m self-centered, sometimes vain, and usually I think about, “What’s in it for me?” I want to feel bad about this but I don’t. I’ve always been selfish, even when I look back on who I was as an awkward teenager and someone going into my twenties. The difference between me now and me then is that back then, I was entitled. I was so selfish that I expected things to fall into my lap or that by praying to God, things will magically turn out the way I wanted them to. However, that all depends on good luck and I don’t have that much good luck. I learned WAYYYYY too late that I would have to chase what I wanted. I was going to have to experience 1000 levels of stress and go through obstacles. Another difference is that now I’m not trying to impress people that much. I still care what people think about me and I wish to be likable in everyone’s eyes but essentially, I’m more worried about my own happiness. I’ll say no if I don’t want to do something. I’ll invest a lot of money into something that others may consider vanity. And hot damn, I’m feeling myself more than I ever did. I don’t intentionally try to inconvenience other people but sometimes it’s unavoidable. Of course, I still uphold kindness and compassion but all in all, I’m happier because I’ve learned to extend that kindness and compassion onto myself and I have less regrets.
I’m normal. In fact, everyone is normal. Is it normal that one of my eyes is slightly bigger than the other? Yes. Is it weird that I haven’t dated even though I’m 26 years old? It’s uncommon but not weird. Is it odd that I like watching Arthur even as a grown-ass adult? Arthur is a legit cartoon and it’s not odd. I always thought I was not normal because I grew up with a mustache. I don’t know how it happened but I like to believe that it was a result of me at 4 years old trying to use my dad’s electric shaver when he was away. Out of my siblings, I had the most prominent upper lip hair. I got teased for it so much and I remember thinking that maybe my vagina will turn into a penis and it turns out I’m actually a boy! But I learned eventually that so many other girls grew up with mustaches too. (Thank God, because I like being a girl.) It’s totally normal no matter how much someone belittles you for it. The thing about being “not normal” is that we’re afraid to feel isolated from everyone else. I’ve come to realized that no one is exactly alone in their suffering. We each have our own personal demons and unique as we all are, someone else can always relate. We’re all so normal, it’s so unoriginal! I’m kidding. But what really matters is how we deal with that normal-ness. Some people will turn to drugs and alcohol. Others might get plastic surgery or lock themselves in their rooms and never come out. As for me, I’m only starting to accept my normal-ness, and I guess my way of dealing with it is through this blog.