I Predict A Riot

The feeling is back.

I think I'm going to break.

For the longest time -- actually, ever since that incident -- I've had this knot in my chest. And no, I did not blog about the incident. Believe it or not, even I have secrets.

Yeah, I know. Shocking.

The feeling comes and goes; sometimes without anything to set it off and sometimes when I taste failure. But it's this crushing feeling, this swelling of tears in my eyes that makes me want to cry forever without reason. Inside me, it feels like there is both something missing and something unwanted within me at the same time.

It's irritating, it's suffocating, it's making me feel wrong.
It's like I'm not myself anymore.
It's like I'm devolving, returning to someone who I never was. It's like the harder I try to grow up, the more I smile, the more responsibility I attempt to assume, the more confidence I have in myself, the more I strain my fingers to reach out to the world... the more I sink back. I'm emotional, immature, unmotivated, insecure, unapproachable.


I am more annoying now than I was when I was thirteen. And Jesus Christ, I was annoying. (It was the emo phase. Yeah, like "the world sucks", "nobody gets me", "boo hoo".)

I've always thought I was stable, more mature than other kids my age; ahead of the pack, so to speak. I've been through a lot of shit for my age, almost enough to justify my terrible attitude. I've always thought that I'd be spared the teenage drama, or at least tough through it without losing sense of myself. But I've failed. I couldn't escape the epidemic. So now I'm just waiting for the sickness to end, and have been for the past five years.
Yeah, life kinda sucks.

For sixteen years of my life I've managed not to have a single mental breakdown, to clench my teeth through whatever bullshit life throws at me and just take deep breaths and keep hoping. Maybe sometimes I'd cry for a while, but I've always felt alright.
Then I had my first mental breakdown Sophomore year. Right in the middle of Spanish class, just bawling my eyes out. It was mortifying, except now I can barely remember anything and that year, which felt so goddamned important, is overwhelmingly insignificant.
This year I've had about three.

But I just keep waiting, wishing, wanting, dreaming, laughing, joking. Making light of every situation, brushing aside failures by desperately attempting to mend my crumbling wall of self-esteem. But I can feel myself slipping. It makes me happy to know that my friends regard me as "crazy, energetic, brave, opinionated, rash, sarcastic, loyal, confident, arrogant, and friendly". Even the bad qualities give me joy. But at the same time I have a sharp twisting feeling in my stomach like a knife stab. It seems nobody sees the me who is always terrified of saying the wrong thing, deathly scared of the dark, constantly indecisive, frustrated at the imperfections the mirror reveals, sick of the imperfections in my personality, and scared to approach others in fear of rejection.

I always thought I'm the type who looks at all sides of a situation and sees the whole picture, but the words "God, that outfit is atrocious; she is so unsophisticated" escape my lips almost instinctively. I once told a friend I cannot decide if I am extremely objective and simply "call it like I see it", or if I'm extremely subjective and criticize everyone in order to fill some void or answer some demand within me.
Honestly, I can't tell. And it freaks me out.
I'm constantly terrified that there are some underlying psychological reasons to my actions; something I cannot see but is blatantly clear to everyone around me.

I can't think anymore, it only stirs up a storm in my head.
So for now, I'm just waiting.

Waiting waiting waiting waiting.
I am waiting for the day when I can tell that cutie on the street just how much I want to touch his hair, the day when I can walk into that cafe on the side of the street at 9pm without feeling like an intruder, waiting for myself to stop pretending not to care when a cute boy tries to make eye contact; waiting for the day when I can finally understand and accept myself. Because I know after that day, accepting the rest of the world will come naturally.

This blog's title comes from a friend's comment on my Facebook.

So, I got a 4 on my AP English exam, on which I was so fucking sure I would get a 5. Of course I broadcasted my outrage on Facebook. Because I'm a teenager with a limited social life, and that's what I do.

He said, "Let's start a riot!"

And it made my day.

Kaiser Chiefs - I Predict a Riot