Wednesday, September 26, 2007

Your Cheerful Outlook is One of Your Best Assets

Written May 27, 2007 (from another journal of mine).
"your cheerful outlook is one of your best assets."

Well, at least that's what my most recent fortune cookie said. It was not tasty by the way. Probably the worst fortune cookie I've ever had and I really don't even like the cookie of a fortune cookie…just the fortune. I normally keep the good fortunes. Actually, I keep even the not so good fortunes too. I just like them in general. I have a small collection in my desk at work. I never look at them. They just sit in there. Maybe I hope that if I keep the fortune it will actually come true. I wouldn't know if any of them had come true since I don't remember what any of them said. I am hopeful for things and I don't even know what I am hopeful for. So what's the point?

I am fighting a battle and don't even know it sometimes. When I actually take the time to sit and reflect, I always realize it. Sometimes I continue to ignore it and other times I try to help myself. One side of me is fighting to be "cheerful"…it is one of my best assets I have been told. I attempt to present myself as strong, opinionated, optimistic, somewhat intelligent, humorous, fun, someone others can depend on. I attempt to do things on my own and portray myself as independent. I want to listen and give good insight when asked. I want to laugh and smile.

Then there is the "me" that is and has been trying so hard to be a part of my life. This person is so sad and wanting approval from everyone. She feels as if she can make no one happy and all her efforts are worthless, minuscule, insufficient, mediocre. She is dark and a bit twisted and afraid to show it. She can be hateful, rageful, and full of jealousy. Envious. Selfish. Bitter. She is lonely because she feels like no one could really accept or understand her. She is tired. She doesn't want to hear you whine. She is sick of caring. This person can never reveal herself. She is weird. She is wrong. I do not like her. I do not accept her. Sometimes I want to.

I am hopeful to keep myself sane. I am hopeful to keep myself happy. I am hopeful to keep myself motivated. I am hopeful I will figure out my life. I am hoping I won't figure out my life. I am hopeful my headaches will go away. I am hopeful I will be cheerful. I am hopeful for things I do not yet know. I guess that could be a good point. Getting to know my hopes.

I used to have many hopes. They were childish…but real. I gave them up. I visit them sometimes. In the shower I still sing. I thought I was good once. I realize I was just mediocre. I still watch the old singing videos every so often and remember a time that I believed "I could do it." More than anything, I just wanted to play the piano. Still do sometimes. A pianist is an amazing thing to me.

I wanted and sometimes still claim to want to be a writer. I am definitely not good enough. I am unable to delve into my emotions. I can only go so far. I fear the weirdo will emerge. There was a time that I wrote a lot. Poetry. The weirdo was a part of it. The meds sent her away. No one is allowed to read her work. Sometimes I will read the old poems and wish I could be emotional without being sad. Maybe another life.

My new hope. The most important. To be loved. Regardless. To be liked. regardless. To be true to others and me. To enjoy all things good and bad. To learn all things good and bad. To be truly confident and not for show. For balance. A good life and finding out what I good life is according to me.

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