Low self-esteem. We all have it, we all face it in our every day lives. But self pity? Why do we tend to pity ourselves and dramatize our lives where every detail is an addition to the plot, everyone around us is either our sidekick, love interest, antagonist, shameless faces in the background, and every aspect in our daily lives are just scenes before the climatic moment where everything falls apart and the protagonist (which are ourselves) deals with the external and internal struggles before another self revelation. The answer is quite simple, we all just want to be the hero or protagonist of our own movie. No one really wants to portray the villain in their own story, and when they do, people usually deem them as having serious psychological issues. I wanted to be Audrey Hepburn. She was graceful, the "classic" beauty, cheekbones as high as The Beatle's in the 60's, sophisticated... the problem was how can I emulate such a person when I am who I am? Firstly, the most obvious trait is that I am Asian, how can an Asian girl ever be considered in a Western society to be the next Audrey Hepburn or even to merely resemble her? Realistically I can't. I'm instead characterized as being exotic or as a sex object. None of which I really mind, the sex object can become a tad bit annoying from time to time. But my "self revelation" in 7th grade, yes this was in middle school, was that I didn't even want to be Audrey Hepburn. Dying in my 60s with appendicular cancer, divorced twice, lungs all charcoaled up. Now 2009. This kind of life style doesn't seem all that bad, in fact it seemed glamorous and exciting. Many strive through their entire lives for stability and routine. I hate structure. Being in the unfamiliar makes me feel more at ease than constantly being in the familiar. "Normal life" freaks me out. Sometimes I just want to run naked across my university campus, stripped away from my conservative clothes and societal conventions. Sometime all I want to do is scream.
Audrey Hepburn
Graceful she was
like the warm breezes that tickle the
pores on your face during autumn
like the birds and the bees you get
when you sat next to your first grade crush
like the soft strokes on your back after you made love for the hundredth time
like the dancing pedals that fall leisurely on the rippling waters
she was everything that made you feel comfortable
but nothing i'll ever be.
