I used to be really mean. I get a certain pang in my chest as I write that, because I've been trying to think of something to post about all day long and that's what I settle on an hour before midnight.
The fact that I used to be really mean.
I guess in some ways I still am really mean. Certainly I wasn't always this way... in fact I know I wasn't. Growing up I was an incredibly sweet kid. And that's not me boasting, it's just a fact. I'm sure family members can attest to it. My teachers used to say the nicest things about me, about how sweet of a boy I was with my blond hair and cute dimples.
When do things change for us in a way that is subtle to our noticing but so overarching that they eventually encompass who we are? I can't pin it to anything in particular, and of course I can't pin it down, either, in terms of where it starts and stops in my life. Sometimes... a lot of times... I'm out for myself and no one else. Maybe that's how we all are to some extent or another, driving toward our own best interests. There are worse things in the world. At other times I'm just a vindictive person. Last year a former "best" of mine told me I was the most passive aggressive person she had ever met. Of course I scoffed at the remark and turned to those around me for validation that I wasn't, but now when it is nine months later I see that she was probably right.
Eventually you become so good at doing something that you no longer even realize when you are doing it. Like someone who tells the same lie so many times that they themselves start believing it, I can't help but feel that way about my passive aggressiveness. And in the same vein, being particularly loquacious with my words tends to be a downfall when texting people. People that know me, at least. Because anything other than a fully articulated response tends to reveal my emotions and set the ball rolling on the passive aggressive nature that tends to make others nervous.
When "K" means it's not okay, "alright" means think again, and "fine." means run and duck for cover, you need to sort your shit out because you're getting too good and that's not fair.
I came out to my parents in August of 2004, a few months after high school was over and a few years after I had started coming out to my friends. I'm sure back in the early days of coming out I was still that innocent boy the teachers and parents liked so much (above.) But as time wore on and the circumstances in my life had to continuously be hidden from the people I loved, it started to change me (below.) You start changing behind the scenes, so to speak, continuing your life as what you were instead of gradually allowing the world to watch you develop into what you are. Then you have this "coming out" moment and in my case, you're more than just coming out as gay. You're coming out as a completely different person.
None of that is to say I'm ashamed of myself for anything or that the people around me wouldn't have helped me had I let them. It is what it is. In the months that followed I started working at Express and started developing my "new" personality. Maybe I was always supposed to turn into the me that I am, maybe I wasn't. It'd be interesting to see me now if I had chosen to go away to college and actually stick with school. Who would I be now? I'll never know, I just get to know about the downside of the "new" personality and that being the venom that came with it.
In order to remain socially relevant in the wonderful gay culture of 2006, one needed a certain amount of nastiness in the way they treated others. Maybe it's still like that? I don't know. I tend to get the shit bugged out of me by "baby gays" more than anything else so my knowledge of the teen gay world is minimal, at best. My calling card at the time became the fact that I picked out three things I didn't like about people. All people. As I've gotten older that has made me cringe more than I ever thought I would; every now and then it gets brought up by individuals who got a kick out of it, as if to say I still do it. And I don't. And it sucks that it is how I'm remembered.
I started to pride myself on being judgmental, and in a large way I'm still judgmental. I judge everyone, for everything, all the damn time. Sometimes I share my thoughts, sometimes I keep it silent. This is the only nasty part of my personality that I will defend rigorously until the end of my life (unless it goes away (it won't.)) It's very easy for people to say they aren't judgmental but we ALL know that is a crock of poop. Don't like that top? Judging. Don't like that person's hair? Judging. Didn't like that display at Pottery Barn, thought the gap in his teeth was annoying, chuckled at the acne that kid had, wondered why no one ever cleans the mirrors in those fitting rooms, got annoyed by the slow cashier at Wal-Mart? Judging.
We do it all the time, we never stop. I just say what everyone else is thinking. I've since learned how to use a filter. Just saying.
I don't know why I felt the need to write this tonight. I don't know what made me feel compelled to share something about myself I don't really like sharing. Sometimes I'm afraid everyone is in on the joke and I'm at the ass-end of it, always the last to find out. Sometimes I feel like people put too much stock into me and my opinions when really I just speak loudly and carry a big stick. It'd be nice to go back in time to meet myself at age 16, shake my hand, and tell myself to just relax and never lose sight of myself.
I'm sure there was a teacher or a movie that taught that same lesson at some point but I didn't listen. What teenager ever listens anyway, they know everything already. I guess I'm just glad I can see some of the errors of my ways, even if I don't know how to necessarily correct them. For now I'm just me, day to day, and always looking forward. And in the end, I'm not that much of a bitch anymore.
At least I've still got the dimples.
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