i’ll be you instead

I am lost.

Being lost is a common story the anxious drama of my swimming head and the drowning sound my racing heart provides. The benefit (during healthy days) and curse (every other day) of living inside your own head is the loop of self reflection. I realized, even if I often deny it, that the people I look up to, watch, read, obsesses over, admire, ect are people I want to be. I change all the time and not in a way that signifies growth or adaptability. I change to stop feeling lost. I always feel wrong and itchy and off for no reason. Soon after I find myself buying Vans just like the pretty girl I saw in the mall, or wearing bright colors like that Instagram picture posted by anyone else, or listening to Beck because the nameless he told me to. My acne will go away if I use the same face wash as you do and then I might be happy just like you. You just hooked up on Tinder? Maybe I’ll retry online dating, then I’ll be less alone and less single. I’ll start to laugh like a friend, or wear makeup like the youtuber I love. I become sure I’ll look less fat if I wear the same clothes I just saw advertised by someone saying #effyourbeautystandards. Sure, adopting things you like and admire about other people/lives/places/allthenouns is just fine if you like it. Sure advertising is a bitch. Yep, I should be less gullible. Yep, to so many things that might not make this the end of the world. But the fact that I am writing this in the early hours of the morning having not slept at all because the discovery and examination of this has consumed all rational thoughts forces me to admit that in a way this feel like the end of the world. Why? I have officially realized in a, my stomache hurts and I want to throw up kind of way because how did this thing I do that feels like it has been integrated into everything inch into and weave through my life with out me knowing, kind of way: I dont know what I like. At all.  AND as a result- so many parts of current me is made out of people me, overtime, has tried to be.

What is it that I find so attractive about these people that makes me change? What am I doing? How have I let this happen?

going backwards. I never wanted to be me, I never thought I should exist in the world. I dont care about being me enough to not try and be anyone and everyone else. I never really wanted to die but I never knew how to be alive either. My life, the literal existence of me stripped away someone elses- by being born I ruined things. While this is something my therapist, yes!therapy, is working on helping me reprocess and examine, I grew up knowing and thinking this. So I wonder how much I function as an individual and not a collection of little things picked up. Is that even two different things? I dont know, I just feel like a magnet with little pieces of all things about someone else I admired at different stages of my life attached and thus creating a Frankensteinesque Miranda creature.

When I look at all these pieces that have made me and think about what I like about them, I have no answers.

The pain in all this discovery is that maybe, and how can a maybe hurt so much, the reason I was so attracted to these characteristics, enough to change and morph to fit them was because of the person I associated with them. Not that they are so admirable, or beautiful, or noble, although they probably are. Its just not that. Its that they radiated these traits so brightly, they were so true to themselves and seemed so definitive and cohesive. They were so THEY in a world where I have no ME. They owned themselves in a world where I lost myself. The saddest thing is that I have never cared enough to look.  I spent all my time doing anything to find myself morphing into these things people were radiating as their truth that I never even wanted to find my own truth. How did I grow to have so little value and not even notice. How have I become this thing, something I cannot even call a person. How have I lost myself so completely and how do I get back. How do I find the lost me?

via Daily Prompt: Radiate

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