When I was younger I used to wish that a book existed with all of the mean things that people have said about me behind my back.
I imagined the pages to be filled with things like: “Amanda’s so annoying,”She talks way too much,” “She’s so quiet it makes me uncomfortable,” “Her nose is too big,” “I don’t want to eat lunch with her anymore,” “She’s gained so much weight,” “She’s horrible at dancing,” “She’s so dumb,” “She’s so awkward,” “She doesn’t give a shit about other people,” “Her mom is crazy so she must be too,” “Why does she even try to be friends with us?” “She lies all the time and I’m tired of it,” “I don’t want to deal with her family shit,” “Why does she get so upset all the time?” “Amanda needs to learn to grow up,” “Why is she such a bitch?” “Amanda is so fake,” “She’s so passive about everything,” “There’s nothing more to her,” “She’s a horrible friend,” “Amanda is so selfish,” “Amanda is such a gossip,” “Amanda isn’t there for me and I’m there for her all the time,” “She can’t think for herself,” “Thirsty bitch,” “She won’t leave me alone,” “Amanda needs to mind her own business,” “She needs to stop running away from people,” “I hate her,” “Amanda needs to stop talking about _____ because it’s so annoying,” “She’s crazy because __________,” “Amanda is crazy because she does ________,” “Amanda is crazy,” “Amanda is crazy,” “Amanda is crazy.”
I would think about this book and all of the things written in it, and how it would get longer and longer as I made friends and lost friends and maintained friendships as time went on. These things would be the worst things I would think about myself.
Some of them are true. Fuck it, all of them might be true. It is the worst when I think about how people think these things every time they talk to me or I hang out with them, so I become exceedingly shy or so enthusiastically and unrealistically nice that it’s almost like I’m forcing them to like me.
The whole point of this “Burn Book”-type list is that all of these things are what I am/was insecure about. I so badly want people to like me and to be friends with me, and I so badly want people to accept me, that I focus on all of these bad things and focus on fixing them, and that makes me become less of who I am. I don’t even know who I am anymore because all I do is spend my time trying to fix what people don’t like about me, or what I don’t think people like about me. I’m Amanda Under Construction, and I have been my whole life.
It has almost gotten worse in college, and that’s because I have felt so unstable without a solid friend group at Ithaca that I needed to make people like me.
Yes, I do have friends at school. These people don’t know who I am, but who I am trying to be. In high school I was a terrible person– I was a gossip and I was mean and aggressive and didn’t treat my friends like they should have been treated. And I am so scared that I am going to go back to being that person that I have made ridiculous attempts to become the opposite.
What I’m typing right now is really self-destructive. I’ve been in an awful mood all night, and it’s because I’m feeling nostalgic and I have low self-esteem right now. I think that what I needed was to write something about it, so that’s what this is.
I dated a boy once who said his favorite thing about me was that I was “genuine.” It confused me so much, because I didn’t know what was “genuine” about me at all. I didn’t know who I was, and I still don’t know who I am, so how can I act genuinely when each time I look at myself in the mirror I hate what I see and I hate who I am and keep trying to change and fix myself? If I was genuine at one point, I am definitely not anymore.
This is just beat down on Amanda night. Sorry, Internet. I am under construction. I will try to write about more positive topics in the future. But right now I’m just down on myself.