"Hypocrates" - Marina and the Diamonds
Shh, shh, Taylor has words to say.
It's funny, almost. I try so hard to be this little shadow at the edge of everything, someone who might be noticed but usually just isn't. I try so hard not to fight for attention or annoy or bother, but as soon as that happens, I feel so terribly left out and alone. I feel left behind, forgotten, neglected. Being the shadow at the edge of everything only works if you don't care, if you like having no one to call when you're crying at two o'clock in the morning because you're just not good enough for anyone at all.
Being at the shadow of everything only works if you like feeling lonely.
And it's not that I mind being alone, really. People tend to rub me the wrong way, to get under my skin and prick at every nerve until I'm shaking and nervous and my tongue is sandpaper against the roof of my mouth and the back of my teeth. I don't mind evading their judgment and their opinions at all. I do mind not being able to get close to someone and stay that way; I mind not having a definite go-to person that I'm willing to burden with my problems and then feel better about everything even though nothing changed. I don't have that now, although I might have once upon a time.
A girl asked me once how I managed to be so perfect. I told her I wasn't even close, and I promise I wasn't lying. I don't think I'm perfect. I don't think I can handle being at the shadow of everything, of being the smart-but-not-enough, of being able to be okay at everything but excellent at nothing. I guess if being perfect means that I'm never satisfied with my life and myself, if it means constantly reassessing and trying to change myself to somehow be better, if it means breaking down at random, inopportune moments because I just can't take it anymore, then I'm your girl. But to me, that's not it. That's not it at all.
I should have made this sooner. I should have told you about my day and my life, because it wasn't so bad two or three days ago. There's a boy with nice hair and a pretty smile who thinks I'm pretty funny and maybe just a little bit odd, but that's fine, because I think he's unusual and sometimes he says things that don't make sense but I don't care. I should have told you about us talking in math and the little things I noticed, things that made me smile because there are similarities. (He stole that and so did I. Not because he wanted it, not because he wanted to keep it, but mostly because he wanted to see how long it would take for them to notice it was gone. I do that, I do that, /I do that/.)
But days and occasions that are bright and shiny are only that way for so very long. They cling to you like glitter for a few hours, a few days, and then they fall off as you go around gathering dust. ("He's actually sort of rude, you know? You should stay away.") It's not so long before they're the sunshine hidden behind clouds, lighting only dimly what isn't underneath the dark, angry sky of people who don't shine and don't smile and don't much care for me or you or people like us, people who see the world in words and faded colors like a canvas left out in the sun, like a book left out in the rain and a blank journal with creamy pages soft beneath your fingers and smooth beneath the tip of a pen.
There are those who say they won't judge you, people who promise that they love you and they care and they would never hurt your feelings and that if they did, they are so, so very sorry about it. Well, I have one of those people. I do. She's been around for a while. Funny how I feel like she judges me the hardest. Funny how two sentences from her can ruin my day, or even the next one or the one after that. Funny how she has such a large influence on my life when she thinks I don't care at all.
(I've gotten very good at taking it all in stride, at hiding how I feel and how she affects me. I've gotten good at keeping the same face. But as soon as I get home, I give up. As soon as I'm alone, I let it all build and grow until I can't stand it anymore because I'm not even good enough for /her/, I might as well be a puppy she's trying to train.)