Saturday, June 19, 2004

The Haunting of Hill House

I’d been dreading Jenn’s graduation party since she invited my family and me a few weeks ago; I knew the party would be full of people who knew me since I was a kid and I hated that.

I hate Hollister.

It’s weird but no matter how much I do, how far I go, these people can shrink me back down to a kid — the same little kid who got teased and grew up to be an asshole, a verbal bully, just to defend himself. When I was a kid, I wasn’t like other people. I’m still not. I don’t act like them. I don’t think like them. I’m left-handed, right-brained and I worked best when I’m doing my own thing. People don’t like that. They changed me. They made me act more like them, which meant becoming more critical of everybody else.

I hate Hollister.

Since I got to college, I started moving back towards being myself again. I’m getting better. I’m getting over myself and everybody else. I’m doing what I want to do and writing more and starting to do art again. Art. I used to do art. I'm still an asshole, but it's something I can work on. I found people I like — people who don’t make me feel like I should modify myself. I can left my guard down there, and I don’t want to go back to having it up all the time. But talking to my fifth-grade teacher, I’m back again, being the same stupid little kid I didn’t like then and can’t stand now.

I like being home, but I’m glad my house sits beyond city limits, because I fucking hate Hollister.

No comments:

Post a Comment