Conformity

I have been rather self conscious as of late, and one way or another I got to thinking about it today. It really bothers me. I have prided myself very much throughout my life on my ability to not care what others thinking of me, but now, it feels like I'm loosing that, loosing myself.

It's all about rejection. I've grown up in a wonderland, but the price I paid for my nice clothes and sanctuary is, in pertinence to this particular note, a whole lot of rejection. I have, since I was about six, been told on a daily basis, how fat and stupid and ugly and unwanted and unlovable and blah-da-blah-da-blah I am. After a while, no matter how much you block it out, how much you try to fight it, try to ignore it, a decade of daily degrading from the one who gave you life begins take a toll on anyone's self esteem. I have always been proud, and been able to tell myself that if I can survive it from my mom, I can survive it from anyone. But with my depression as of late, I find it hard to look in the mirror and not be reminded of those harsh words; not be constantly thinking how out-of place I am in this world. And on top of it all you have boys, stupid, know-nothing, hypocritical boys to remind you, and the world, just how weird and out of place you are.

And I am. I, Katherine Elizabeth, am weird. I am a dork, and a nerd, and absolutely not popular. I do my best to be kind and thoughtful and friendly to everyone, but I learned about 7th grade that being nice does not a popular girl make. The popular girls seem to just be born out of sugar and spice and everything nice, and the rest of us plain old chemical X. No matter how hard I try to be pretty or perfect or wanted, I will never be popular.

And yet, here I am. I find myself conforming nonetheless. Watching what I say to make sure I'm not too weird, conforming to the opinions of the group, following the herd, and worst of all worrying about who might see me hanging out with people whom I consider my friends because they aren't cool.

I am actually worrying what other people think of me? Why? Why do I care what a bunch of pretentious party-girl stoners care about me? Not to be generalizing or degrading of these girls who seem nice enough, but why am I letting them define me. Why am I putting there opinions of me ahead of my own happiness?

I get it now. I understand the concept of peer pressure and girls who get so sad about rejection. In simple terms, when detached it seemed those girls were idiots. I didn't not understand people who cared what anyone thought of them. How could they sacrifice themselves and their scruples, because they were so concerned of others opinions? In unemotional terms it sounds so easy, but when your living it, it's different. I don't care who you are or what you claim, everyone on this Earth wants to be loved. We are a species of companionship; whether it be friends, family, or relationships we thrive on acceptance (which can be perceived as a predecessor to love). So as we become adolescents, and we realize the impermanence of our childhood families and looming dangers of the "real world" into which we are about to be thrust, it becomes apparent that we will need to seek love (and acceptance elsewhere). That's were peer pressure comes in, when the need to be accepted, almost for the sake of survival, becomes important.

They say that one must love themselves before they can love others. But what if you have reached the point at which you doubt whether or not you are worthy of love because you have been deprived of it for so long? Do you simply go on telling yourself you are lovable, or is that lying? Should you rather begin questioning yourself, and seeking acceptance of others as guidance towards love? Or in seeking the acceptance of others over your own opinions are you then sacrificing something of yourself, doing more harm than good?

How do I remain myself, without being lonely? Because, it seems, to have friends at school I have to be someone that I am not, denying my true personality until I have erased myself completely. And yet, if I am true to myself, it leads only to a life alone, decreasing confidence piece by piece until I would much rather be a speck a dirt than myself. I do not want to be just like everyone else, there is no glory in that; but how do I remain myself without sticking out like a turtle in a chicken coop? Where is the middle ground, the place to be yourself without being alone?

Or better yet, where is the place where I get to be the popular girl I always wanted to be and yet still myself; the place where I can be accepted for who I am no matter how weird or dorky? I would walk a thousand miles and click my heels together as many times as you want if someone could just point me there. <3