Defaults

What do you do when your heart feels like it's too big for your chest? Is there any way to cut it open and tear it out, at least to lighten up the load by letting it bleed out?

I came across a book. It's called Fangirl by Rainbow Rowell. I was expecting it to be good, but definitely wasn't expecting this. I wasn't expecting to read myself on paper. I wasn't expecting to be confronted with some of my most inner thoughts, ones that I pushed aside with good reason. I was expecting feels, but not like this. Not the bad kind.

It's a bit scary when a book reminds you of yourself so much. It forces you to think about things you'd otherwise ignore, to look deep inside yourself.

"Why do we write fiction?"

To disappear. 

The good thing about fictional writing is that they are fictional for a reason. They don't mirror real life. Or at least, they don't mirror your own life. A good relatable story is like an alternative universe. A different pathway of what ifs and could've beens that your life might have taken, but didn't. In a way, it's fun. You get to experience all that shit without actually experiencing it.

And then you catch yourself wishing you actually did experience it. Even the bad. You start wishing for the bad. What's worse is when you start wishing you could be a certain character. Especially the ones that seemingly contradict your own nature, contradict your default state.

I like to say that being a bitch is my default. And I say it like it's true. And I kind of believe it is. But I also wish I didn't. Because it's not true. Not really.

I realized being a bitch isn't my default. Or at least it didn't start out that way. A lot of my life, most of my childhood and my early teenage years are a bit of a blur. Possibly because I blocked out most memories. Or rather, they weren't really memorable to begin with.

I hate the fact that nothing really interesting happens to me. Even if some drama comes my way, I can never be 100% sure that it wasn't all a story I made up in my head. In a way, the story of my life has pretty much been written in stone. I am the good girl. The one who chooses to stay in her room than go out with friends. Who would rather live in a fictional world than a real one. The girl who works hard and will probably end up in a steady, if not dull, career. Live a pretty normal life. Have her shit together.

That's the story I see written out for me. And I don't like it one bit.

So I've taken the pages and put them through the shredder. Sure, I won't deny that I tend to retreat into myself. Rather than act out, I act in. I am reserved, calm. Yes, shy. But I refuse to let that hold me back. I refuse to let that be all I am. And so instead of having 'goody-two shoes' as a default, I rewrote it to 'bitch'.

Because I want to be that girl. The girl who carries herself with confidence and fakes coolness with ease. The girl who can walk into a room and make heads turn. The girl who can flitter around a room, make small talk and mingle. The girl who doesn't care about what people say. A 'bitch', in a sense. Is it unhealthy, wishing for this? No. Not if it pushes me to be a better person.

And I do want this. So badly. I want to be able to decide that I want to go to a party or a hangout or just go out and be social, and not have to worry about withdrawing so much into myself that I feel like I'm about to have a panic attack. I want to be able to be confident enough to say what's on my mind without worrying if I sound stupid or crazy.

I want to go to parties and stay up late with my friends and go on spontaneous trips abroad. I want to all the things that "people like me" normally wouldn't do, because I want to do them. And maybe that's the part of me that doesn't make me quite like those "people like me". I genuinely want to experience life.

I want to be unapologetically enthusiastic about life. I want to be a nerd. And not just behind closed doors.

And I can't do that if I keep on being a 'good girl', all safe and cozy in the comfort of her own bedroom.

I'm wearing a pair of goody-two shoes and these, dear readers, are my ruby slippers. They pinch my toes and move my legs against my will, and I can never take them off. Not unless I chop my legs off. And I see myself doing so in the future. Repeatedly.

No. Actually, I am doing it now. Taking a chainsaw to those damned shoes, and slipping on a pair of high-heeled stilettos instead. My Dad said I am too social. I laughed for ages afterwards. Because he doesn't know how anti-social I really am. But in light of recent times, even I must admit that I am being really social lately. I am putting an effort to go out and meet people, even though it feels unnatural, against my so-called 'default'.

Perhaps, I will never be able to rewrite my default again. Being nice to people, even begrudgingly, is in my nature. My Mom always says that I'm "too nice" for my own good. That doesn't stop me though now, does it? And being a bitch is sort of wired into my DNA now too. When you try so hard to rebel against yourself, it does tend to come off the wrong way. And it sticks.

But I think I can do this. Develop the ability to be outgoing and 'extroverted' (I kind of dislike using that word -- 'introverted' too). And even if I never truly acquire it, at least I can learn how to fake it. All the way.

I don't know how to end this post.

Let's just say I am... feeling ambitious lately.

Cheers.

--Karin Novelia, Rebelling Against Herself