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Diary of a Critic
Just about the daily things I think about which my friends either don't want to hear or just don't understand.
So; I was thinking. I'm a pretty weird person. On the outside, I am a happy-go-lucky ditz, clumsy and all round pretty care-free.

But on the inside, I think way too much, often consider life to be a game we've set up for ourselves and made so unnecessarily complex. I mean, we've made all of these rules and taboos, to a point that no-one will truly express their emotions, and if they do they will be looked down upon.

For example, in my age bracket, we're all like a set of perfect stereotypes. We all act loud and oblivious, purely because if you seem to have any real emotions, people will use them to their advantage. If you look sad, people will try their best to find your weakness and attack it. If you're happy, people will make up a rumour as to why you are and make sure everyone hears it.

The only deep feeling that it is acceptable for us to show to the world is anger. This gets you respect, makes people scared of you. They may not like you, but they know to never mess with you. It seems the more you tear other people down, the higher you rise in the eyes of others.

Emotion has been made unacceptable in adult society also. If you're sad, people will tell you to cheer up. If you're happy or mad, people will tell you to calm down. It makes it seem as if emotion is a bad and alien thing, and you should appear neutral to anyone who sees you.

I admit, I'm guilty of all these crimes. I make sure no-one ever sees a weakness, to the point that bottling things up has actually caused me health problems. I have an amazing guilt complex, which basically causes me to feel so bad if I tell someone that I'm upset about something. I have such a good quality life and amazing friends, I feel like I don't have the right to be sad.

Like after my nan died. We were so close, I saw her everyday, we could talk for hours; but when my mum told me she'd died I didn't cry. I just nodded and closed my eyes. I didn't talk without being asked a direct question for weeks, even my mates mums' and my teachers called up my mum to see if I was O.K. I don't remember anything about those few weeks. It's like I blocked them out altogether.

See? Even typing th
at made me feel bad. And typing that made me feel worse.
I'm going to go, just to end that little cycle...
S'laters, Diary





 
 
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