I used to have something like this a long time ago. I used to type freely, without regard to criticism or to the feelings of others. I viewed the internet as my personal bitchspace, and I somehow believed that this space possessed a far greater ability to keep me anonymous than it actually could have. I was young. Well, that's a silly thing to say considering that I'm still quite young and have no intention of departing that state, but I was a bit younger than I am today and a quite a lot stupider than I would ever admit to anyone in person. That stupidity birthed one of the greatest personal tragedies of my life--a child brought into this world through the lustful, heartless rape of my developing individuality by the socially stifled yet ever-present adolescent arrogance with which I had on my own fought so long. But, alas, the arrogance overpowers the individual almost every time, and how was I supposed to cope with that at the age of sixteen?
I don't think I've ever gotten over the loss of my first best friend. It's one of those firsts that sticks with you for your whole life: You replay the scenes in your mind innumerable times. You stick your cortical iPod on shuffle, hoping the same sad songs will escape the random number generator this time. But it's always the same, as if you've only got that one song--that one memory of what went wrong.
And it's really tough to get by that kind of stuff when most of the people you knew back then still kind of resent you for it. And when you do something so as to defy the wishes of the one that trusts you above all others with the dear holding of those wishes, it's hard to recover a certain confidence in yourself and your ability to maintain lasting, healthy relationships. It hurts to think that almost every serious, non-familial realtionship that I've had has ended poorly, with the aforementioned having the worst culmination to date. Having recently broken up with a serious boyfriend of several years, my confidence has once again been diminished. But part of me does recognize that I have come to handle these trials well, for I admit that I am experienced in the ways of dealing with maelstroms and shitstroms of all varieties, and though I do fail and falter almost every day in one way or another, I know that I'm generally okay and getting better all the time.
I have a lot of people to thank for my developing abilities as a social being. I once lacked so many of the skills that most people take for granted. I could not converse normally with my peers for most of my childhood, and I even had trouble conversing with other drummers in my line--my class. It's taken me all these years I've been here to finally be comfortable enough with myself to show the world the best of me, and the worst of me. I'm slowly getting over that fear. Let this current school year and past marching season be a testament to the progress that I have made. I am nearly there, and the whole university will know this in time.
Perhaps I haven't revealed a lot about myself just yet. But do relationships ever work that way? You get a chance to make a first impression. You get a chance to tell people exactly what you want them to know, and, with the advent of the internet profile, you now get a chance to present yourself in the way you want to be seen. You give the best of yourself to a world you don't even know, hoping for some sort of reciprocal learning to occur. You present yourself to the world because you are--I am--finally okay with being seen.