I hate to make another blog post trying to redeem myself for not posting for so long, another entry filled with sentiments of toxicity and excuses for not having the time, energy or motivation to write - none of these things for now. The task is not to write an entry for the world to ponder on, but to record a reflection for the blogger to contemplate.
I've long ago established that I express myself well in writing. I may have abandoned this so-understood asset, but apparently these kind of ideas never change. I've said many times that I write especially under the influence of strong emotion. Maybe this is one of those moments when merely staring at the ceiling is not enough, not even a good conversation with a friend would suffice. It's time to write it down.
I've spent the past three hours retracing my childhood. Back then I was the "it" girl. I was, in my opinion, the most amazing child to walk the earth. I believed I could sing, dance, act, declaim and all the other options a child is asked to perform when young. I believed I was cute, pretty and that I had a chance to be Ms. Universe. Blame it on my wonderful parents, but like it or not I came to believe that I was amazing, thus giving me a concoction of ego and self-esteem.
To say whether that was a good or bad notion is out of the question. On one hand I did have a lot of air in my head. I was the worst self-righteous brat on the street. In another light, however, that same feeling of achievement and appreciation gave me a lot of self-esteem. Throughout my grade school years I believed I could do anything, that I could rule the world and be whoever I wanted to be.
And then I grew up.
This time, I more or less know how to gauge the truth of things. Apparently, I'm not the prettiest girl you would see. Boys don't turn their heads in my direction, nor do boyfriends give me the double-take while holding hands with their girlfriends. Not that I want that image, but my point is that I'm not necessarily gifted with good looks.
Lacking still is my talent. I used to think I was the best drawer, singer and dancer on the planet. My artistic skills, in truth and in essence, have remained dormant all these years, ceasing to develop at the point where I left off. People don't give me standing ovations for my song numbers, nor does anyone comment that my voice is even worth a shower song. And dancing? Most people in the world would rather not use "dancing" and my name in the same sentence. I think they'd call it disturbing.
Realizing these things wasn't so bad. I got to know myself more. And besides, at that time, though I never admitted it, I actually enjoyed being on the honor roll. I did everything in my power to be the best, to be on top. No exam, quiz or project was allowed to go by me without that touch of excellence. It is a feather in my cap.
And so it came to be that I was more famous for the grades I got from school. Sure, I liked that. It gave me attention, motivation, and right now I realized it gave me identity. Here was a girl who thrived on excellence, who settled for nothing but the best and always got it.
Then came college. When striving for the best doesn't always give the best to you, when sacrifice and service doesn't always guarantee fulfillment, and when each day of your life is like a race through time, trying to drag yourself through it all. Needless to say, I'm not the "it" girl anymore. Of course, it isn't really that big a deal, but I figured I really did get disappointed in myself. This is why I'm grade-conscious. To others it may be merely adding records to your transcript, but to my insecure soul it's trying to protect the one thing I've known myself to be. I know that when I lose that, I lose myself.
One way or another, I've learnt to deal with the fact that I'm losing grip of my past identity, but now I have the dilemma of learning who I really am. What fallback do I have? When people ask about me, they usually know me from the honors I've received. Inevitably, every one takes you in high regard, treats you like an idol. Many times I can't help but stop myself from correcting wrong notions.
Without the grades, the medals or the certificates, who am I, really? What can I do? And more importantly, what role can I play in other people's lives? Sure, I may be kind, people may love me as I am, but I can't help but think if a difference would be made if I was out of the picture.
