Monday, 14 May 2012

Thoughts on the train...

Sorry about kind of massive post...

Spending four hours on a train always makes me think about things. Different things. Mostly they are related to some song that starts playing on my iPod. One single song can create a whole mass of thoughts, sometimes not very pretty, sometimes beautiful. This time it was a mix of bad and curiousness. The song that started was this:
It got me thinking of a quote by Don Draper from Mad Men: "When did music become so important?". Which got me into thinking about why music became so important to me... And then I was back there. I'm still surprised that it's all still so very close to the surface. It's been six years since I was miserable and still the memory of it is still so close. Why? 

I grew up in one of those towns where you never hear the end of it if you're different. What's even more interesting is that the other kids noticed and knew that I was different even before I noticed it myself. I don't even know why I was considered different back then. Maybe my memory is faulty but I remember myself as being a pretty normal kid before the age of 10... Maybe cause after I learned how to read everything, except maths, clicked and out of nowhere nothing was difficult? Jealousy? Could that be it? I keep trying to find a reason, but it eludes me all the time. I hardly ever studied 1st-9th grade. 10th-12th was fun, but mostly not difficult. Is that what made me different?

I never cared much about rules. But of course it was innocent rule-breaking. I climbed the trees on the school playground although the teachers told us not to. I refused to wear a helmet while reading a bicycle... Started skipping school in 5th grade at the age of 11... Innocent stuff like that. As I remember it 8th grade was the worst. Looking through my old diary that I had at age 14-15 it was really bad. I just felt totally worthless, ugly, unloved, a waste of space and time and money. Who would notice if I went away? There were a lot of times when I just thought: "What's the point?" I spent 8th grade being depressed. I spent 9th grade being angry. Angry with myself, angry with them, angry with the world. All I thought was that I was going to be better than them, succeed better than them. I would show them that brains would triumph over popularity. And even now when I see that I have done better than them I feel such malice that I'm almost ashamed. But it also makes me feel that it was worth it. 
By the end of 8th grade I had figured that if I went ahead and killed myself it would be the same as letting them win. I was stubborn enough not to let them and no matter how pitiful I thought I was I didn't think that they were worth enough to give them my pitiful life. So I struggled on and in hindsight I guess it was worth it. I have been described as strong by other people, and not physically strong but mentally. 

It has had some effects, though. Although my self-esteem isn't at rock-bottom it isn't exactly high either. One single mistake can make me break down completely and suddenly I believe myself to be completely worthless again. It's easier for me to believe that I'm worthless than to believe I'm actually good at something. It's easier for me to believe that no one really likes me than to believe that I have people who love me. Also seeing or hearing someone calling me ugly still strikes really close to home. Sure, I know not everyone can think I'm pretty (heck, I don't even think I'm that pretty) but actually hearing it hurts more than it should. I have never considered myself to be the pretty one. I've never considered myself being worth-while. And the fact that I'm so shy, quiet and ridiculously polite in new situations, new environments and with new people all originates from a desperate need of wanting people to like me. Cause although I know deep down that I have talents and that I have friends and people who love me, my greatest fear is still that this, all these good things, is a dream and that I'll someday wake up and discover that nothing has changed and I'm still all alone. 

To keep that red thread...
Music has been my way of escape. Music and books have been my way of escape since I was 10. Music didn't really come around until I was about 13 and I wanted music that touched my heart and made me feel like it spoke to me directly. That the lyrics were all about me. Lyrics that could make me cry. Music that was so beautiful I could just lie in bed and listen to it all day long. That's when music became important to me. The songs I listened to the most were these:

So this is how music became important to me and why I needed it. And a bit about what I was doing for four hours on the train :P Feels kind of "not again -.-" to make a post like this, but well... I have done some more and if you're interested in reading them click here

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