Friday, 2 November 2012

A text post

As the entire thirteen years of my schooling life draw to a close I find myself considering what has been achieved, what I could have done differently and what changes could have been made.
I am a person with very strong opinions, I do not believe in regrets and I do not believe that you should change yourself for other people (unless, of course, you've got some questionably shitty views on matters of the world) and this has led me to relentless acceptance of myself and acceptance that I cannot change my personality.

At an age far too young I have had to deal uncommon, yet not unheard of issues. I have had to fight myself and challenge myself constantly. I have had to turn my life on its head and completely rediscover who I am.
I feel as though the people I surround myself with are extremely intellectual thinkers and reflect positively upon me, thus helping me in unconditional acceptance of myself - even when it's incredibly hard.

I observe other people my age groundlessly seeking things that will not improve their happiness. Things that are so futile in the question of their existence.
No one is going to refuse to date you because your thighs touch or because you have dimples on your butt. No one is going to refuse to be your friend because you don't have a flat stomach, and, to be so blatantly honest, if they did, why the fuck would you want to date them or befriend them? Happiness will not come through the methods magazines seem to preach.

I have been there. I have held the belief that losing weight will create some new version of me, some version that was underneath the excesses of health and that had been dying to come out for 15 long years. A version of myself that was outgoing, beautiful and happy. When I didn’t discover that girl I got mad, I didn’t know where she was hiding and why she wouldn’t come out. She wasn’t there. She isn’t there. And I’m okay with that, because I’ve found a pretty amazing girl in her place.

There is no way that losing weight has brought me to where I am. I’ve had to work on myself as an individual. I’ve had to accept that I’m not a particularly outgoing person, that I’m introverted and that a lot of the greatest people I know are introverted as well. I have fun when I am around people and I enjoy meeting new people. But that does not change the fact that I’d rather sit at home reading on a Friday night than going out.

I’m not saying this is a better way of being, or that it is worse. It’s just different. I won’t passively stand by while people tell me that I’m a “loser” anymore. When people refer to me as “weird” I actually quite enjoy it – who wouldn’t want to be weird?
Don’t get me wrong, there is absolutely nothing wrong with being normal, but I have found that my life is far more exciting because I’m strange. If I were normal I wouldn't have traveled to the United States at 15 to live with a family I’d never met (who, it turns out, were not quite “suited” to me). I would not dance around my house when I’m home alone listening to BeyoncĂ©, and the people whom I’m close to would probably be strangers to me.

If I were normal I would not be me, and I like me. Sure, sometimes I have days in which I ask myself why it just doesn't seem to “click” when I'm doing schoolwork, days in which I wonder why I'm not artistically gifted or why I can't seem to get the words out quite right. 

I'm a strong individual and I'd never want to ask for more. I believe in myself and I will keep pushing. I hope that one-day I will love myself rather than just accept myself, but for now, acceptance is enough.  

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