Have you ever walked into an old closet? As in the random one in your hallway that doesn't really hold clothes? Whoever the hell designed my home needs to provide us all with an explanation behind putting a closet in a hallway. It is in a really odd location. When I was little, I walked around in the hallway with my eyes closed (because it's fun and calming) while running my fingers along the smooth surface of a wall, to simulate blindness. (I'm less insensitive to those with disabilities now And I apologize if this offends.) And out of nowhere, I felt this odd texture...fencelike, but horizontal. It threw me off me balance somehow, and I crumpled to the ground because I couldn't identify it or what it meant to accomplish by being there.
My senses were trying to process too much information all at once. Humans are always searching for answers, and while it does lead to innovations that bring civilization forward, it also leads to finding oneself in a shaking heap of humanflesh in front of a closet. I was a stupid child. But I also blame the placement of that closet for my confusion, which lead to internal problems later on in life. I don't have an irrational fear of closets. First of all, it's justified for that "traumatizing" experience. Second, closets make my room seem cleaner than it actually is, so I appreciate them.
Back to the point. You pile the hallway closet up with random things you can't bring yourself to throw away, right? Actually, doing so makes the closet feel insecure, and I would recommend against it. I love the smell that hits my nose after I open one. The smell of the past. For some people, the past may smell terrible. Not in the sense of what most people would consider a terrible smell , but something "normal." I mean, you smell a regular thing, like cherries or staircases, and it reminds you of a sucky time and you associate that smell with terribleness. But in this case, the smell can be considered a smell of… joy. It's the smell of unicorns, bicorns, tricorns, quadcorns, and rainbows. Unicorns smell like smiles, bicorns smell like hugs, tricorns smell like compliments, and quadcorns smell like love and Saturdays.
AGAIN, back to the point. My brief visit to the hallway closet resulted in squealing. And I usually despise squealing for prolonged periods of time and at high volumes. It gets annoying and if the person is someone I am not acquainted with, I will proceed to slappahbitch. See, I'm not allowed to physically hurt my friends, because the next encounter I have would be awhahawkward as fuck.
What caused the squealing? I found an old binder from middle school. It was falling apart, dusty, covered in marker and spilled juice. I was just too lazy to go out and buy a new 5 dollar binder. Anyway, the binder was full of old assignments, from poorly-written English paragraphs to barely-failed math tests. I remember sitting in the classrooms, behind people I thought were cool, being distracted, and losing track of my middle school purpose.
Then I found an old cheerleading packet. It was basically a grid that I drew, split into a bunch of pages, each square with a picture of a cute little stick cheerleader in a different pose. I was in charge of teaching Jai Ho, the slutty edition, to my squad. I got up in front of them and tried to teach it. I didn't like it. So I drew 80 fucking pictures of a cute stick cheerleader bitch in a different pose and made 12 copies. MISTAKE. Looking back, I feel stupid...maybe none of them even used it. And to add to that, our last pep rally sucked. But ONLY during the dance that I taught. It was the really big one where we were leaving and it was supposed to be emotional. More important than that, the 7th grade cheerleaders were making their big introduction, for they would be next year's main cheerleaders. They did better than us.
By this time, I was all "fuck it, forget cheerleading, forget performing, I made everyone suck." The look on this one girl's face sealed it for me. We didn't like each other in the first place, but I gave her even more reason to not like me. I stalked her on Facebook a couple of weeks ago. She's doing alright, having fun in high school, being herself, whatever. But it was then that I decided I would never do something like that again. So weak and pathetic, but at the time, it affected me negatively.
I looked through my old planner, half-smiling as I saw my doodles and squiggles. I wished I had tried a bit harder when it came to homework. I wish I had paid less attention to what those other bitches and douches were doing. I wish I could go back and redo it.
But then again, if I had done one thing differently, my current life may not be as it is now. Yes, it isn't perfect. But there are people who care for me. And I can be myself around them. And my grades aren't too terrible. I'm not tied down by cheerleading practices, and am especially grateful for that because I hear so many cheerleaders complaining about it.
I would like to take the time to thank those who go through ridiculous situations, yet refuse to complain. Those who show up every morning with a smile on their face. It's uplifting to come to school surrounded by people like that, and I know other's appreciate it as well. Unless you are not human, your house-life probably isn't perfect. Most of us look forward to school for the sole reason of being cheered up by friends. I definitely do. Ever wonder why you typically see friends laughing so much in the media? It's because they are cheerful with each other. So when we hear complaints, it just gives us more to mope about at home. Meaning, stop complaining about petty shit.
Don't get me wrong. High school is synonymous with stress. And there are times where you have to just let it out and complain. But there is a clear difference between those who complain daily for the fuck of it, and those who have been holding it in for so long without telling everyone. And this difference can be seen within the first month of knowing someone.
This post is scattered. I guess it doesn't really have a point. I thought there was at first, but no. There are a few genuine bits here and there, but the rest is "humorous" garbage. I mean, it starts with the past, where we question things and why they happened. And then we fuss over what others do, while being hypocritical. And then we go through hell to make others happy, and don't realize the stupidity of it until later. We makes mistakes. And it defines us. We do random useless crap when we should be bettering ourselves. We have to find ways to thrive in capitalism, yet we are too lazy to get ahead. And yet we can accept it and be grateful for the better things. Why did I even bother to write it? Oh well, whatever, I won't delete it, as I spent so much time on it. In the end, it could lead to it inspiring someone else. Can't do that if it doesn't exist.
Life itself, isn't it?