Ahh, yes, another entry with a one-word title! Amn't I good at it? What? No? *sigh* Even my trusty Imaginary Readers are cruel these days.
Anyway, where was I? Oh, right, I haven't even started. And robots won\'t be mentioned this time. What did I want to say? ...
From my last entry, I stopped crying and listening to sad music I've been doing better. Somewhat better, any way.
It would appear that my little journey to the dark side is like going down to explore a basement. You expect to find a dungeon with darkness and spider webs and floods and mould and moss and awesome and in stead you find yourself face to face with well-lit hallways. Empty, deserted white hallways. Always filled with cabinets and unused things. Alone. All alone. You find yourself alone and lost in there, with your steps echoing on the cement. You give up on your hope of finding awesome but by that time you're already lost in the maze of hallways. You ask out loud where the exit is. Nobody's there. You start talking out loud, partly because you want somebody to take you to an exit and partly because your echo is better than being all alone.
Still, just as in a basement, you find things few know about. Be them for the better or for the worse. In my case, I just had a very obvious fact I had been oblivious about reveal itself: my inferiority complex goes back a long way.
I've always been the sort of person that sees the best in people. I used to take pride in the fact that I could (before my anger issues, that is) find something to admire in every person. And even now, in the moments I'm not caught up in desiring random people die horrible deaths, I can see the best in anybody.
Still, by cultivating this manner of thought, there's no wonder I grew to admire everyone. And from that, there was only one step to feeling inferior to everybody. And I still am. I see people as smarter than me and just that, or more charismatic than me and just that and so on. I only see their qualities, ignoring the defects. Sure, this manner of thought does wonders when I talk to someone or try to lift their spirits, but it kills me.
I used to use envy as a driving force. (I think I even wrote an entry about this.) As I envied some people for certain qualities they possessed, I either focused harder in order to get to their level - in school, for example - or simply did nothing, as I knew I couldn't do anything about it - for qualities such as charisma or fashion sense. However, this constant envy of everyone, even if it made me better, it also made me doubt my place in the society. I know what I can do. However, I also know there are others who can do the same things better. And this is making me constantly doubt myself. For example, I always avoid using the term "fan", even if I love something and I possess above average informations about it because I can see people who know literally everything about said thing and go to great lengths to either support it or show off their love for it. And some place in my brain registers this as a quality and I subsequently admire them enough not to wish to bring down the term "fan". Sure, this drives me to learn more about the thing I love, but there's always someone who's more obsessed than me, and I can't keep up.
And even my admitted complex about my breasts stems from this (and other stuff, but I'll stick only to this aspect). Even when, after 4 years when my friends tried to convince me big boobs are great, I started feeling better about how I look, more and more doubts arose. I saw bigger boobs on a smaller waistline. Sure,I later found out it was the wonder of the bra, but it still made me feel my struggle was... useless. Sure, I'm not skinny, nor will I ever be (mainly because anorexia isn't among my favourite pastimes), but, hey, at least I had boobs as a consolation prize. Until, well, I realised that there are girls with bigger boobs than mine and skinny girls with push-ups. God, how I loathe push-ups! And, Hell, I did feel inferior. In a really messed up way. I mean, most skinny girls I know of literally eat little more than air and I'm all in favour of including anorexics among suicidals and leaving them rot alone in the desert. But I admire their figure. As for girls with bigger boobs, well, I can't bring myself to envy them because I know it hurts. Literally. In spite of all this, I feel inferior to them.
How the Hell did I end up on "boobs" again?
Shadow of the Luna