Fix Me

January 10, 2009
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Fix me.

Have you had that moment in time when you wanted to just get out of your own skin? I’m not talking wanting to have a better complexion or an even skin tone; I’m talking about wanting to change that part of you internally [again, not as in organs] that bugs you to no end.

I want to change that jealous streak in me. As you all know, I get jealous very easily. I get jealous when a guy I like likes someone else, I get jealous when my best friend is happy in her relationship, I get jealous when a classmate scores better results, I get jealous when I don’t receive the praise that a less deserving [in my opinion] party got. I get jealous over the smallest things. I’m completely filled and consumed by jealousy in every step I take. No surprise to why I can relate to the ‘mean girl’ or the b-i-t-*-h. I know their feelings; I walk in their shoes [though mine are no Feragamo pumps].

But that jealousy is what drives me forward. That keeps me on my toes. That green eyed monster helps me make decisions. That devil inside me reminds me that I’m not perfect and that I need to let others win at times.

Yet, I suppress this jealousy most of the time. When the inner diva feels slighted I reproach her saying ‘its not my place, its not me’. You may think ‘that’s good’, right? No. Honestly no. It sucks. Because I hold myself back, the jealousy gets worse. The anger intensifies, the disgust grows. I hate people more because I don’t give in to the voice in my head which tells me that ‘it should be you’. I hide at the back, I refuse to stand out, I simply fade away.

I guess I don’t do that with my friends. I am loud and brash when I’m with them. In the real world however, that’s not me. I’m shy. I don’t stand out. I get into my shell and refuse to come out. Then I get mad when another person gets the credit. I do the work, I am better at it but I don’t take the fruits. What’s worse is when that someone else which I have been helping out is the one that reaps what I’ve sown. Someone else gets the name for something I created. Sometimes they pretend its 100% them when I made them who they are. Believe me, its not fun seeing others grab what should be yours. You know you should take it, your family tells you it is rightfully yours, but you want to be the ‘good guy’. You want to be the supportive friend, you want to be the ‘goody-two-shoes’ who never says a bad word, you want to be the ‘woman behind the great person’. You secretly tell yourself that you did the right thing when you actually just want to die. You pretend its okay. You continue smiling although you’re actually in tears.

Tell me then, am I justified? Am I wrong in hating? Yes? No?

Now looking at it, I do not hate the part of me that gets jealous. I hate the part which does nothing about the jealousy. I hate every single cell in my body which restrains me. ‘Giving credit where it’s due, clearly that no part of you’. A twisted version of the very words of Anna haunts me. I comfort myself. I pretend its okay. How wrong is that?

I support anyone but myself. I disappoint my family with trying to play the good girl. I don’t take risks. I don’t step out of my comfort zone.

So fix me. Tell me what to do. Should I continue doing this? Should I play the supportive sidekick when I’m doing all the work? I guess I sound completely and utterly conceited. Come on, I’ve been there for everyone. I think I deserve to wallow in self-pity once in a while. I get to have my own cameo on the soap operas everyone else is living. I am allowed to cry when I want to. I am allowed to be SOMEONE when I can. I don’t want to be the wall flower that is never noticed. I don’t want to be just the go to girl who get nothing on her end of the bargain. I don’t want to be the mindless droid that just agrees. I want to take control of that wheel before I go over the cliff. I’m tired of just mending everyone else’s tyres.

Forgive me if I take chances now.
Forgive me if I want to be thanked.
Forgive me because I want to be something worth while.
Forgive me for not being the person you want me to be but who I should be.

I’ve got to fix the nuts and bolts inside me before I can truly help you. For once, let me be me.

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