Wednesday, 10/23/13
Now I'm in this class, and we're put in table groups again. I always dread having to sit in these groups. I can't just write without feeling like I'm being watched, or without feeling uneasy the whole time my hand's in motion, anticipating being forced to share it with the group. I'm so awkward. I don't want to tell everyone around me the raw thoughts I was just having. It's like pouring my mind and heart onto a page, believing it'll be locked away and kept a secret from everyone but you forever, until someone evil takes it and hangs it bluntly on the wall. People pass by and glance at the mess; the raw emotion that was once locked away inside me. They look, they process the information, and just like that, hell silently breaks loose. People judge. They laugh. They're insulted. They think it sucks. And once your dignity has been crumbled into a fine, lifeless powder, you're work is taken off the wall and given back to you. "See, that wasn't so bad, was it?" they'll say with a gleam in their eye. You are now a slave to that one thing you wrote, whether it be about the way the sun looks coming through the window, your thoughts on religion, or just about how good you think guacamole is. No one will ever see you in the same light they once did when they thought you were just an innocent, thoughtless human being. You are simply the words on the page before you.
Sorry, I got on a rampage there.
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