"While they play mothers and fathers/ We play little boys and girls"
I sang Tears for Fears until some hard-core shiny-geared hump-backed road-bikers passed me on the long, lonely, cracked-concrete journey back down from Mt. Disappointment. Then I got too self-conscious with my braid and polka-dot backpack.
I firmly believe you are as young as you feel. And I feel like I'm in middle school.
Last weekend I ran a 5K faster than I ever could have when I was on the Creekwood Middle track team. Replace "track" with "field" [discus] and "team" with "one mortifying exercise in gracelessness in which I fouled out at the only meet I attended". This time I placed fourth in my age group. Take that, gym teacher who said I run weird and ruined exercise for me until medical school!
Not gonna lie, I ain't never been cool. Now intensely magnified by the no-brand-name-you-know glitterati since most days I can only muster black-on-black activewear. And since social anxiety continues to stymie any suggestion of an adult playdate, I've been sulking it out. Trying to commune with nature. Long foggy beach walks. Just-missed-sunset drives. Rambles through arid forests reminiscent of the desert world from Super Mario Brothers 3. Somehow the fear of mountain lions, rattlesnacks and dehydration is less than the fear of having to talk to a stranger for more than 10 minutes. Or worse the fear of showing up to an event and having no one want to talk to you and pretending to look at your phone.
It's not that I don't want/like/need people. Some friendly hikers on the trail today taught me some important lessons in local geography and history [i.e. how to actually get to the trail I thought I was already on] and I appreciated their temporary company, if only as a communal experience in shortness of breath. We shared some salty chips and then they were gone as soon as they came, back down their side of the mountain and me to mine. My mom thinks I need a safety [rape] whistle if I'm going to keep hiking. I would rather have a buddy.
I can't even say that I'm the new kid in town any more. It's been 6 whole months. I think according to Green Day for some strange reason it's supposed to be feeling like my home. But it's not really. Still an outsider. Watching the world go by.
I firmly believe you are as young as you feel. And I feel like I'm in middle school.
Last weekend I ran a 5K faster than I ever could have when I was on the Creekwood Middle track team. Replace "track" with "field" [discus] and "team" with "one mortifying exercise in gracelessness in which I fouled out at the only meet I attended". This time I placed fourth in my age group. Take that, gym teacher who said I run weird and ruined exercise for me until medical school!
Not gonna lie, I ain't never been cool. Now intensely magnified by the no-brand-name-you-know glitterati since most days I can only muster black-on-black activewear. And since social anxiety continues to stymie any suggestion of an adult playdate, I've been sulking it out. Trying to commune with nature. Long foggy beach walks. Just-missed-sunset drives. Rambles through arid forests reminiscent of the desert world from Super Mario Brothers 3. Somehow the fear of mountain lions, rattlesnacks and dehydration is less than the fear of having to talk to a stranger for more than 10 minutes. Or worse the fear of showing up to an event and having no one want to talk to you and pretending to look at your phone.
It's not that I don't want/like/need people. Some friendly hikers on the trail today taught me some important lessons in local geography and history [i.e. how to actually get to the trail I thought I was already on] and I appreciated their temporary company, if only as a communal experience in shortness of breath. We shared some salty chips and then they were gone as soon as they came, back down their side of the mountain and me to mine. My mom thinks I need a safety [rape] whistle if I'm going to keep hiking. I would rather have a buddy.
I can't even say that I'm the new kid in town any more. It's been 6 whole months. I think according to Green Day for some strange reason it's supposed to be feeling like my home. But it's not really. Still an outsider. Watching the world go by.
No comments:
Post a Comment