word vomit.

People are so intense, and it's a really trippy thing. I need to remember that 90% of how a person treats you has nothing to do with me, which is completely against what society trains you to think.

Society: as early as you are around people and modifying behavior (don't do that, it's not fair; yes, share, et cetera) and not taught as a means to becoming a better or good person, necessarily, but so that the people you're interacting with like you. And that implies that how they treat you is directly correlated to your behavior. We get this our entire life, and yeah, a small percentage of how they treat you is because of how you're acting, but the rest is completely rooted in who they are. Trippy. You don't get that until you're older, and realize that the way you're treating someone has little to do with what they're espousing or their actions, rather with how your day went, how you're feeling, your stress, why did your friend's husband act disgusted by you the other night? Was it that inappropriate joke? And shit, you make those jokes a lot. Does everyone think you're a douchebag like this guy does? Do you walk around thinking you're a decent person and everyone REALLY thinks you're a douchebag because of your inappropriate joking all the time? Hm. And then bam: someone asks you a question and you snap the answer back because of all of this deep thinking of thoughts, and they're likely going to wonder about why you treated them that way, and possibly let it eat at them, snapping at someone else.

I repeat.. hm.

Now, I realize I could be completely over thinking things, and granted, I worry about how people in general treat me way less than most. I'm well aware. But lately, I'm more scared of abandonment than usual. I know it started with the hospital stay, and how thankful I was by this outpouring of unexpected support (especially from the families I'm proud to be considered part of, plus my own biological one), and upset by the few I did definitely expect that didn't come through.

I don't know if I'd be able to thrive if my families wrote me off. I'd survive, because I do, but I doubt I'd be able to thrive like I have without them.

My foster mom, Jacque, told me that she loves my pick-myself-up-by-the-bootstraps mentality, and I don't know any other way. We're sharks, us humans. Swim or die. Move or die. Be or die. I can't imagine another way to be. But I feel like I'm catapulting towards death. My life is already a quarter over, and what have I done with it?

What have I done with it?

I don't want to live a wasted life that's full of putting out fires, flying through books and classes and concerts and rejoicing in their beauty for a moment and then forgetting because a fire explodes my brain and consumes my thoughts for weeks or months on end.

I don't want to forget, or do so little with my life that it's overly-complacent and I'm essentially not swimming and therefore propelling myself to a boring death to an unfulfilled life.

Hm.

What a weird random post. I just needed to spew word vomit though, I guess.