If you spoke with me for five minutes, you’d surely come to the conclusion that I am a pessimist. You’d be right in your assumption. I rarely look up when I’m walking, I hardly ever smile, and I constantly say nasty things about myself, things I wouldn’t say to my worst enemy. Some negative traits I feel I exemplify might be perceived as non-existent by others who’ve met me. Though, I can tell you with 99% certainty, that most people would agree with me when I profess that I am a drama queen.
It’s one characteristic of my personality that I am not ashamed of, at least, not when the overly dramatic words come out of my mouth. See, I tend to also not think before I speak and afterwards I feel kind of stupid. You know, you immediately think to yourself “Oh my God! Did I really just say that out loud? People are going to think I’m so weird.” Nevertheless, I get over those worries fairly quickly and it leads to conversation about what is really bothering me. It also leads to good advice and sympathy at times.
You’re probably wondering why I’m leading in with this long introduction about being a drama queen. Well, I’ve been overly dramatic over the past few days. It has a little bit to do with the boy again, so bear with me. In my previous post, I’d talked about reaching out to someone who hasn’t spoken to me in a long time. It was a big, scary step for me, but I managed to work up the confidence to message him on Facebook. It may not seem like a big deal to you, but for someone who is scared of rejection and believes that everyone hates her, it was huge.
By Saturday afternoon, I still had not received a response. All I wanted was a response. See what I mean by dramatic? I jump to conclusions all the time.
It’s all in the nature of being a drama queen. I probably should have waited at least a week, but no, I promptly wrote a message to my only two friends that might notice I was gone, (I’m not quite sure if that previous statement is overly dramatic or truthful. I do believe that no one else on Facebook notices I’m alive). Basically, I thanked them for caring when everyone else who used to care had given up on me. I told them I was deactivating my account and that they could contact me on my phone if need be. Next, I went through with my plan and temporarily closed my account. I plan to get back on Facebook eventually, but right now, it’s just contributing to my depression.
It’s silly, but I take everything very literally. Facebook, though fun and useful at times, can also be really discouraging. I’ve mentioned before, how I feel like a loser because I’m not where I want to be. Well, sometimes, Facebook can make me feel like an even bigger loser than I already am.
Sometimes, Facebook feels like high school. There are popular kids, jocks, geeks, goths, weirdos, creeps, etc. I enjoyed my last two years of high school because I gradually felt like I belonged, like I wasn’t an outcast, like people liked me. At times though, Facebook feels like those first two years, when I felt invisible. This is precisely the reason I deactivated my account. I can’t read about people who used to like me, enjoying life without me. It makes me feel like I never mattered to them.
Perhaps I did make a rash decision by deactivating my account. It’s only temporary though, and I believe I will benefit in the short-term. I can’t be sucked into this popularity contest anymore, wondering how many people will “like” the new post I wrote or picture I posted. I’m not ready to see a guy who used to like me, all over a girl who isn’t me. I’m sick and tired of watching the people on the chat list and hoping that someone special will send me a message.
For the time being, I feel pretty good. I’m trying not to be overly dramatic, thinking of him, and wondering what I did to push him away. I’m tired of crying about major events that former friends may or may not be lying about. This is why I’m leaving Facebook for a month.