I was surrounded by people I knew, embarrassed and self-conscious, but too curious to turn it down.
My friend had gone first, and he put on a good show. It looked like it did in the movies, it looked real and amazing. I still don't remember if it had been his first kiss, too, but I know he wasn't familiar enough with kissing to be a pro, by any stretch. And yet, he just leapt in and went for it, lacking neither confidence nor charisma. His confidence was infectious, and probably the only reason I decided to go along with the whole thing. If he could do it, why shouldn't I?
So I did. And I failed miserably.
Didn't feel like it at the time, it felt like I had done okay and I was kinda proud of myself, actually. But a couple rounds of truth or dare later, the poor girl was asked which kiss had been better between me and my friend. Without much hesitation, she quietly pointed to my friend.
I think it hurt at the time, but the only thing I remember feeling was a desire to learn what my friend had done that had been so much better than me. What was his technique? What had he done differently? Why was he better?
He had no answers afterward. He couldn't explain it, he had just done what came naturally. So... whatever then, I guess he's just naturally better at dealing with girls than I am. And this never changed, he's always had the confidence to just jump into a situation with no fear or self-doubt, whether he was dealing with girls or anything else. I've never known him to doubt himself. It's taken me a long time to realize that's what the difference was. I hyper-obsess about tasks and actions, trying to plot out every possible outcome in my head beforehand so I can try and be prepared for it.
It extends to everything, like driving to the grocery store, talking to bank tellers, playing video games, and it comes from an intense fear of failure. It's kept me from doing many, many things in my life I may have found fulfilling or enjoyable. From great opportunities to work on film sets to Taco Tuesday with my dearest friends, you name it. I've turned it down to remain comfortable and free from the shame of not succeeding.
And it's hard to admit to myself, honestly. It's hard to acknowledge that I'm the one who has closed nearly all the doors that have been opened for me. It's hard to realize that no one thinks as negatively of me as I do.
But I'm here, I have admitted it. I think I understand the reasons for it, and I have a face I can fight. And for now, I actually feel like I'm winning. I've been losing weight and can see my jaw again. I'm dressing better, eating better, drinking more water. I didn't despise everything about this more recent Christmas, and holy shit that's a big deal. I've disliked Christmas for as long as I can remember.
The biggest step, I'm positive, was leaving my religion. It's amazing how my life and mindset have changed now that my belief system has been completely destroyed and replaced. I'm an atheist now, for fuck's sake, I NEVER thought I'd say something like that about myself. I had stopped going to church for years, and still I thought that one day I'd end up back in the routine of falling asleep in sacrament meeting every Sunday. I assumed one day I'd have a calling in the church, probably a young men's leader, or maybe I would even become a seminary teacher.
And yet, shattering my views on life and the universe, and coming to the conclusion that there is no God, no divine plan, no heaven and no salvation has improved almost every aspect of my mindset and outlook on life. I used to think that there was a loving god who cared about me and would watch out for me, welcoming me with loving arms once I exited my mortal life, and I thought about killing myself multiple times every day. I used to believe there was a plan for me, a great expectation of my life and earthly mission, and I never thought I was good enough to do anything.
I haven't thought about killing myself in months. MONTHS. Do you understand what that feels like? I no longer have an hours-long period every day where I fantasize about how I would do it, what I would write in the note, picturing my funeral and trying to think of who would show up. Thinking what people would think of me once someone went through my journals and computers and found a version of me that was completely incongruous with who they thought I was. Remembering all of the pain and bad things I've ever gone through in my life, and thinking they were all needless because I would be gone soon anyway.
You, the mythical reader who has followed my progress since my MySpace days, are no stranger to this. I think in my last post on my old blog I straight up said that I was convinced that one day I would die by my own hand, presumably on a day where things had gotten bad enough that it really just wasn't worth sticking around anymore. And boy did I get close a few times in recent years.
Like when I found out I was going to be a father. "Just drive your car off of a cliff or hit something at really high speed."
Or when I DID get into a car wreck , came away from it unharmed, and realized that my family had no vehicle and no way of staying afloat until we could get a new one. "Hanging would probably be easiest."
Or when I was working for USPS. That right there is probably the closest I've ever come to actually following through. I really believe I was days away from passing the breaking point. It was going to be slitting my wrists in the bathtub with the shower running so no one would have to see the blood.
But now, removing religious context from my thinking has all but eliminated my desire to leave this world. It's like I didn't see the point to living before, because what came after mortal life was apparently an eternity of learning and exploration and invincibility and happiness. I used to not care about what was going on in the world because I thought it could only get so bad before god stepped in and shut everything down. But now... It's all on me. My life only has the value that I give it, my choices are my own and I'm accountable for my own actions.
I'm realizing a ton of things I hate about myself that have no merit or legitimacy. I'm exploring myself and trying my hardest to ignore my inhibitions and anxieties. Fuck, dude. I went to a New Year's party and nearly burst into tears in the middle of it because I was becoming so overwhelmed with the social anxiety of dealing with an entire house full of strangers.
Contrast this with the only other huge New Year's party I went to, where I belted out the vocals on a dozen Rock Band songs, then slipped into a private room with a model who has eight years my senior. Granted, that was firmly back in my drinking days, but it's still quite the departure.
I dunno. I just needed to write something. I feel good, I feel... important.
I feel like I'm coming back.
