There's a party in the cupboard
Missy, I am writing you an e-mail, but so as to not leave you high & dry in a "public" arena I would like to reiterate for the thousandth time how wonderful and brilliant you are. Not how wonderful and brilliant "I think" you are, but how wonderful and brilliant you are. Of course, in the day-to-day drudgery of social interactions my words might be cast aside or forgotten, but keep them in mind, because in my experience there's no better ammo against the trials of other-people's-opinions than being assured of the fact that there is someone out there who really knows you, and loves you for you.
You know those moments when you think: if they could only wait till I get comfortable, until I'm in my element, if they could only talk to me when I'm at my best, then they'd see the real me. The real me, not this trembling shadow of awkward sentence structure and general clumsiness - they'd see who I really am, and if they'd only wait, they'd see...
well, maybe I'm the only one who thinks that. But if you do think that, well, missy, in your case, it's the truth. And even if the Burcu I know isn't the Real Burcu by your standards, considering how great I think the Burcu-I-Know is, you at your absolute best would probably trigger a meteor shower.
Missy, I am writing you an e-mail, but so as to not leave you high & dry in a "public" arena I would like to reiterate for the thousandth time how wonderful and brilliant you are. Not how wonderful and brilliant "I think" you are, but how wonderful and brilliant you are. Of course, in the day-to-day drudgery of social interactions my words might be cast aside or forgotten, but keep them in mind, because in my experience there's no better ammo against the trials of other-people's-opinions than being assured of the fact that there is someone out there who really knows you, and loves you for you.
You know those moments when you think: if they could only wait till I get comfortable, until I'm in my element, if they could only talk to me when I'm at my best, then they'd see the real me. The real me, not this trembling shadow of awkward sentence structure and general clumsiness - they'd see who I really am, and if they'd only wait, they'd see...
well, maybe I'm the only one who thinks that. But if you do think that, well, missy, in your case, it's the truth. And even if the Burcu I know isn't the Real Burcu by your standards, considering how great I think the Burcu-I-Know is, you at your absolute best would probably trigger a meteor shower.
If I'm going to spend this long whining and whining about my feelings of inadequacy, at least someone could have pity and comment on my whining and tell me not to whine, it'll be okay, so I don't feel inadequate and whine.
Thank you.
If I'm going to spend this long whining and whining about my feelings of inadequacy, at least someone could have pity and comment on my whining and tell me not to whine, it'll be okay, so I don't feel inadequate and whine.
Thank you.
For the past few weeks I've been feeling like a social outkast at work. I still have these latent anxieties of "uncoolness" that have drifted around me since I could remember interacting with anyone outside my family. In my family, at least I had been respected, intimidating since the age of six. But in the company of others all that changed. I was unsure of myself and what to say, but that most torturous part was that I was always, always fucking unsure of what they thought, Those people. Even now its the same shit at work. Case in point:
Employees with dogs are allowed to take them to work. The other day one of my coworkers had her dog in our office and the dog went under my desk, while I was sitting there, and farted. It was funny. Everyone laughed, myself included, but it seemed that this one girl behind me /kept/ laughing. She was struggling to stifle gigles while she sat at her desk, long after everyone else had stopped laughing. My heart trembled. Was it vicious laughter? I kept turning around to glance at her, hoping that some eye contact would let her know that I noticed and enough was fucking enough. Finally I realized she was talking on AIM to someone and had been laughing at that all along. She probably barely noticed the dog incident. I was relieved. I came home that day bitter and a little depressed at my lack of strength, the scars of always always having /never/ fit in with any group of people, anywhere. I started to hate my family. Thinking that if I never felt like trash, like low class, that if I grew up having my daddy on speed-dial "in case I got in trouble" or talked to my mom when I felt down, I would have that implicit self-confidence (implicit to everyone else) that let them know that I was above them no matter what. I was taken care of. I had a house, and christmas, and lawyers, and there was an invisible group of people standing behind me. But I think for anyone looking at me, then and now, their gaze slides from focus on me to the space directly behind me and they realize as I realize that its just me. Its my damn fault too. I've never been able to hide how vulnerable I am. I've never talked or acted in way as to suggest to anyone that there is any thing else other than what they see in front of them.
For the past few weeks I've been feeling like a social outkast at work. I still have these latent anxieties of "uncoolness" that have drifted around me since I could remember interacting with anyone outside my family. In my family, at least I had been respected, intimidating since the age of six. But in the company of others all that changed. I was unsure of myself and what to say, but that most torturous part was that I was always, always fucking unsure of what they thought, Those people. Even now its the same shit at work. Case in point:
Employees with dogs are allowed to take them to work. The other day one of my coworkers had her dog in our office and the dog went under my desk, while I was sitting there, and farted. It was funny. Everyone laughed, myself included, but it seemed that this one girl behind me /kept/ laughing. She was struggling to stifle gigles while she sat at her desk, long after everyone else had stopped laughing. My heart trembled. Was it vicious laughter? I kept turning around to glance at her, hoping that some eye contact would let her know that I noticed and enough was fucking enough. Finally I realized she was talking on AIM to someone and had been laughing at that all along. She probably barely noticed the dog incident. I was relieved. I came home that day bitter and a little depressed at my lack of strength, the scars of always always having /never/ fit in with any group of people, anywhere. I started to hate my family. Thinking that if I never felt like trash, like low class, that if I grew up having my daddy on speed-dial "in case I got in trouble" or talked to my mom when I felt down, I would have that implicit self-confidence (implicit to everyone else) that let them know that I was above them no matter what. I was taken care of. I had a house, and christmas, and lawyers, and there was an invisible group of people standing behind me. But I think for anyone looking at me, then and now, their gaze slides from focus on me to the space directly behind me and they realize as I realize that its just me. Its my damn fault too. I've never been able to hide how vulnerable I am. I've never talked or acted in way as to suggest to anyone that there is any thing else other than what they see in front of them.
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