Peculiar Mood

I’m in a peculiar mood today. For the last few days people close to me (for some reason) have been questioning my actions and scrutinizing my behavior and then explaining to me why I act the way I do. But I know why I am like this.
(She’s taking her time making up the reasons,
To justify all the hurt inside.
Guess she knows from their smiles, and the look in their eyes,
Everyone’s got a theory about thebitter one)
First of all, I’m a flirt not because I lack sense of worth or confidence (in fact, most of the time I do actually believe I am much more self-assured than most around me! If anything I have too much self-esteem). Second of all, I don’t have anger management problems. True I keep it all bolted inside only to blow up once a month (mad cow disease, I mean, PMS) and sometimes more often if my brother is around, but isn’t that better than snapping at everything all the time, especially at stuff that are most of the time really not worth it? Third of all, I don’t think my dad leaving is why I long for notice. I know a lot of girls who have all-in dads and still act the way I do. My brother seeks attention wherever he is, always in the limelight, and you can’t help but give it to him. His presence demands attention. I get my attention from being extra nice. And that might be interpreted as flirting sometimes, but like I care? I never let anyone close enough to hurt me, so what’s harmless flirting every once in a while? And my mom’s my best friend. Not really a mom, but I think in the long term she’s the best kind. Sometimes I resent her for never putting her foot down because I think that would have taught me some self-discipline, but most of the time I realize that she’s the coolest. When she’s available, that is.
(They’re saying mamma never loved her much,
And daddy never keeps in touch.
That’s why she shies away from human affection.
But somewhere in a private place,
She packs her bags for outer space,
And now she’s waiting for the right kind of pilot to come)
The thing is, I am in a weird mood today. I’ve been picking fights all day long, looking for a reason to argue. I’m fidgety, on edge and bothered. I feel like I’m living a life meant for someone else, or maybe I just wish I were someone else. I know what I would like my existence to be like, what real life can be, and now I know it, it seems hard for me to accept going on with a forged one. Fake smiles, unpleasant commitments and obligations, disagreeable responsibilities, style and manners, makeup, marriage, money. All those superficial “concerns” that have been drilled into my head making me believe that I am compelled to be like everyone else. Mom always gets annoyed with me, saying things like: But they’re all going to wear skirts. That’s exactly why I choose to wear pants, can’t you see? "But non of them put makeup." Well, I want to stand out and be different. I want to be seen, to be noticed. I want people to become aware of me, and if I am like everybody else, who will spot me? I feel different, and when I try to fit in I feel even more separate. But even trying to fit in sucks because once you experience the elation of being noticed the taste of the accustomed usual becomes intolerably agonizing.
(I would fly to the moon and back if you’ll be,
If you’ll be my baby.
Got a ticket for a world where we belong,
So would you be my baby?)
At one point in my life I remember being tremendously, almost offensively satisfied with who I was and what I was doing with myself. What happened to that? When did I turn into this wistful, preoccupied fantasist, with this memory of what was and what can never be again?
Sometimes I do forget. Sometimes I mingle and chat and gossip and laugh and feel like everyone else. And then on some days like today, when I’ve had too much time on my own, thoughts like these come into my head and I get infuriated. People would talk to me and I would think: are you serious?? Could this be significant? Well, it is important. For those who have nothing more important to occupy their time.
I just want to leave. Maybe it’s the big old house that makes things so gloomy. Usually when I’m with people I don’t think about all this. I forget, and feel like I belong. But I don’t. Maybe nobody does, and we just keep on pretending we belong so everybody else think we belong and try to belong too.
Oh, what am I on about?
I wish I could know love, experience it not in the traditional way that my family expect me too, but in the wild prohibited way when all is passionate and fanatical. But maybe I will regret this wish, because I also want the tranquil, relaxed type of love that makes you always think that all is well in coupledom.
(She can’t remember a time when she felt needed.
If love was red then she was color blind)
Maybe I need more friends. The period of my life that I mentioned earlier, when I was really blissful, I had many friends. Too many. Most were just foolish friends I was able to have a crazy time with, and yet none of them judged me. They were not at all condemnatory or disparaging. Everything went. All was allowed, nothing forbidden, as long as it was in the name of fun. Two who were really close were like my soul mates. They knew everything before I said it, the kind of friends who call right before you were about to pick up the phone to call them. The kind of friends you would want to talk to right when you got home even though you had just spent the whole day at school and in the bus with them (mom used to always wonder about that, what could we possible have to say to each other?). The kind of friends who were closer than family. But those friends drifted away, and those friendships were broken (family demands, pressure to grow up). Now I have “artificial” friends. My cousins are the only people I really trust, first of all because they’re family, and growing up with them forced bonds upon us so strong we can’t be anything but close. My friends are only university associates, non of whom know my secrets. I admit that until now I have failed to form a friendship anywhere as close as the camaraderie I had with those two girls, starting since 3rd grade all the way to when we all were 17. (Yeh, that’s when life walked in and said: time to grow up. First step: separation.)
(All her friends they’ve been tried for treason
And crimes that were never defined)
Now I’m blabbing, but it feels good to know that I’m being heard. I’ve spent too much time at home. I think I will go to AD tomorrow, sort of lose myself in the surroundings of many, many cousins who will fill my time up so much that I will have no time for all these depressing, sad, miserable thoughts. And now I am already thinking of how annoyed I will be when I get home. What will I do?
I will wait. In hope of the person who will form a friendship with me closer than any other I have ever had, a love that is peaceful, with just the right touch of fanatical, and a ticket to escape this life that I was forced into, into a life that I choose to live.
(She’s saying love is like a barren place
And reaching out for human faith is
Is like a journey I just don’t have a map for
So baby’s gonna take a dive and
Push the shift to overdrive
Send a signal that she’s hanging all her hopes on the stars…
What a pleasant dream)