I’m far from perfect, but at least I’m not fake.
I’ve got a thing for genuine people. I hate fake folks, you know what I’m talking about, mannequins. Especially when they call themselves ‘friends’. It’s hard not to fall in their trap. After all, they come with their glowing hellos and over-reaching promises and all. Their plastered-on simile makes you come out the other side pondering, “how did I miss the signs again?” But it’s even harder letting them go, the mannequins I mean. Although you’ve got that nagging feeling deep inside, letting you know your ‘friend’ isn’t really your friend, you try to ignore it. You make up excuses for them; you want to be the bigger person. You give them the benefit of the doubt. Only to be disappointed again. Fake is the latest trend; it’s the new real. And I can’t stand it. When they exaggerate everything and border on lying to make themselves look good and you’re like, “Hey, that’s not how it happened.” But then they turn the whole group against you. And all you can do is search their neck for that made in China stamp. When they don’t follow up on anything, because talk is cheap and their character isn’t capable of real talk, so they break their promises leaving you in the lurch, while coming up with a ton of excuses. And all you can do is pray they'll take their mask off when they speak to you. Or when you find out about all the ambiguous gossip they've been doing behind your back, because you know, in a social circle everyone is always willing to tell you who said what. And all you can do is shoot them that “darling, you’re so fake” stare. Let them go— that’s what I told myself. So you know, little by little I ended up letting everyone go. I convinced myself that I should be going home at the end of the day feeling the interactions I had with others were genuine, and the emotional investments I made with friends had to be something worth making. I repeatedly told myself to avoid getting caught up in the hypocritical game, where we’re all nice and smiley and all, but then we’re trash talking behind each other’s back. I didn’t want to be a fake person myself. But now, viewing myself through an outside perspective, using the same criteria I used to classify others, by my own standards, I’m already fake. I’ve been in situations where I didn’t follow up on what I said, breaking my promises, while coming up with a ton of excuses. We just finished our IA photo exposition. Our topic being teenage pregnancy, Aitana, my partner, and I decided to photograph teen moms. It wasn’t easy asking nor convincing the “hermana Andrea” to let us take and expose the photos, they’re underage. We sat down with her and Mr. Bon, we had a deep chat and came to an agreement: In the inauguration we were allowed to leave the pictures with their eyes uncovered, but for the rest of the time the pictures were up, we would cover the girls' eyes. Of course I assured her 1000 times “que yo me encargo”, “que yo me voy asegurar de cubrirle los ojos apenas termine”. I covered these girls’ eyes two days after the exhibition. And of course I had a ton of excuses: “I had no time”, “I completely forgot”, “I didn’t know what to cover it with”. You see, I’ve been hypocritical. I’m a very direct person and try not to gossip, but you know what, of course I’ve done it before. I’ve arrived to school with the urge of telling someone how childish so and so are acting and how I can’t stand them any longer. I never walked up to them, sat them down and spoke about it. All this time I’ve been blaming society. Trying to exclude myself from this “fake” adjective I’ve labeled it as, when the truth is, I’m no better. When reading The Love Mindset by Vironika Tugaleva, there was one specific quote that stuck with me, “your relationship to yourself is and always will be directly reflected in all your relationships with others.” All this time I’ve been playing the victim here. Pointing my finger has become an art form for me—a natural instinct. The thing is, when I pointed one finger at someone, three were pointed back at me. I wasn’t aware that everything in my life was about me. Any relationship in my life has been a direct result of how I view myself. How I’ve interacted with others and the relationships I’ve formed, have been directly correlated to the wounds or walls I built during the hardest stages of my life. All my core beliefs were distorted and I had no idea. This translucent walls have been like judgemental lenses through which I’ve viewed others. I’ve been so fast to judge everything and everyone in my head that I’ve taken real friendship opportunities from myself. If only I’d taken the time to get to know the person’s reasons or motives to do or not to do something, maybe I’d understood. About two weeks ago I wrote a blog post about a hard period in my life and how during the roughest times for me there was nobody there but my parents, not even my sister. I didn’t publish it because of comfort reasons, but my mother wanted to read it. Hesitantly, I let her, I knew she’d find a way anyhow. After reading it she said something I wasn’t expecting; she said I had it wrong about my sister “not caring”. She said my sister did care and was there for me; she’d even cry out of worry... for me. The thing is, I wasn’t approachable back then, and wouldn’t open up to anyone, no exceptions. So again, I was so busy pointing fingers at her, that I didn’t take time to think about her reasons; I didn’t take time to think about how it was my fault. All I’m saying here is we’ve got to stop pointing fingers, labeling people and judging them, in order to truly open ourselves up to a real relationship. We’ve got to start being real with ourselves. This is the hardest challenge. Yes, this mean taking our masks off, accepting our weaknesses or insecurities as well as our strengths. Only then can we begin to be real with others, when there’s nothing left to hide. If we can accept ourselves, our awkward, clumsy selves, then we will be able to fully accept another awkward and clumsy person. I never said it was easy, It’s hard to find a true friend, really hard. But it’s more than possible, if you only let yourself. We’ve got to let go of judgment; the recipe for suffering: You begin with dissatisfaction over how someone is and then mix it with your desire for how you want them to be, resulting in you “letting them go”. Share your weaknesses, your hard moments, and share your real side. It may scare the fake ones away or inspire them to let go for once of that mirage called perfection. “Doubt yourself and you doubt everything you see. Judge yourself and you see judges everywhere. But if you listen to the sound of your own voice, you can rise above doubt and judgment. And you can see forever.” ~Nancy Lopez
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Footsteps got louder and creaked closer behind me; convinced it was a hallucination, I kept my pace. Heavy footsteps sped up. I turned into the road half jogging to get away. Just when I decided it was a figment of my imagination, two mammoth hands clasped me from behind, pulling me towards a strong, towering body. I couldn’t think straight—quivering unremittingly, panic took over my body. With my hands bound together, what could I do? Scream. But when I tried, nothing came out; not one sole note. No matter how hard I struggled, how hard I kicked or how hard I screamed, no one noticed. And then I woke up.
You think I’m making this up right? How could I possibly remember such details when it’s rare enough to remember a dream itself! I guess it’s easier when it’s what you’ve woken up to multiple times a week for the past month or so. For some reason the context and setting always vary— I might be escaping someone, running from someplace, or undergoing an open heart surgery where the anaesthesia didn’t work; but in every single one of these dreams, no sound comes out when I scream; in all of these I’m overwhelmed by a sense of what I can only call… loneliness. Does this mean something? Is it my subconscious trying to reach me? Am I being oblivious? Probably. It may indicate my sense of frustration and helplessness; that feeling that no matter how hard I try, no one will ever really and truly hear me. It may also be suggesting that I’m currently holding back some true feelings or expression because I don’t actually want someone to hear, because I don’t want to need help. So even though my insides are screaming, as cheesy as it sounds, for someone to save me, I’m acting in waking life as if all is fine. But why am I feeling this way? These dreams are not telling me enough! When exactly is it I feel like this? Why? Two weeks ago, I had another nightmare, completely different, yet still relatable. The doctor diagnosed me with terminal cancer; I’d still have to undergo chemotherapy and thirteen different surgeries (I know, my dreams are somewhat tragic). I wasn’t planning on telling anyone, but at school I couldn’t hold it in any longer and confided in a friend (I’ll keep names anonymous). She actually laughed, right at my face— I know right? Mean child of God. Before I could stop her, without hesitation she whispered in another friend’s ear what I just intimately confessed, as if it was another piece of gossip to talk about. Then they both laughed. The dream went on and on following this same course. It’s almost self-explanatory, at least for me. I have an amazing group of friends, all different yet still equally as great. For reasons unknown, I still don’t have this one friend to fully and completely trust in, to hold my back no matter what, to be there for me when I most need it and most importantly, to genuinely care. Actually, I’m lying; I do know why I can’t find this 'one friend'. I guess I’ve always known but have tried to deny it for as long as I can remember. I guess it’s always been my fault. I think it all comes down to trust. I’m very, very, very reserved as to whom I can confide in; It's as if I don’t feel, I don’t know… safe or comfortable, telling my issues or whatever, to others. Why would someone else want to hear about what’s going on with me? They have their own things to worry about. They’ll probably think I’m a burden; that I’m trying to call attention? Or maybe they’ll judge, or gossip. I don’t know. What I do know is that I’ve taken the first step towards mending these loathsome sensations--recognising my problem—at least it’s a start. |
Daniela Ontaneda16 year old Junior at Colegio Franklin Delano Roosevelt who's taking the IB diploma program. Archives
August 2017
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Future Blog Posts:
-Free to Learn by Peter Gray reflection
- If you could change someone's life - If you could change one thing about yourself - Should students be allowed to grade their teacher - What happens after death? - Are precognitions and deja vu different? - Mysteries of the mind - Mentalism - The positive of experiencing pain - What is existentialism -Impact of media on society |