I am officially retiring from quinceañeras for a while.
No, not in participating-- that ship sailed long ago-- but attending.
The last quince I attended didn't hit me this hard... maybe because I'm not as close to that family as I am to tonight's family.
Maybe I wasn't as upset then because I basically just went in and out.
Today I sat at the party from the very beginning. I had time to sit and admire my surroundings.
And then the nostalgia monster attacked me-- violently.
Maybe I had a worse time because many of the teens present reminded me of my friends, family, and me at that age... we all do look alike, after all.
I was transported to the early '00's... which hit me pretty hard. I thought of the style, the music... the slang of the time. I thought of what it actually felt like to be a hopeful little 14 year old girl... excited about the years to come.
Excited about the upcoming years dating and flirting with boys.
Excited about finally growing out of your awkward chubby stage.
Excited about how cute your crush(es) is (are) going to get.
Excited about the motherfucking future!
God, I was so jealous of those kids and their youth... like some wicked witch in a fairy tale (now I understand why they do all that mean shit).
I was fine, smiling for most of the party... memories do make me feel warm and chirpy for a minute or two.
But the MEAN nostalgia monster takes over... and everything goes to hell.
"AND LOOK AT YOU NOW!" it seems to scream at me.
I lose all concentration and stare idly at the ground as two thirds of the room hit the dance floor-- my conscious paralyzing me with its crippling insults.
"How many of those teen dreams came true for YOU, AnoMALIE?! How much advantage did you take of your youth?! NONE!" it continues to abuse me. "You are A-L-O-N-E! Your dreams are D-E-A-D."
And I finally lose my cool and beg to go home.
And so we do.
I get home, and can't even look at myself in the mirror as I power-walk to my room. I feel like the oldest, ugliest spinster in the world, I fear seeing an old, wrinkled catlady in the reflection. An idiot who wasted her life.
I wash my face and sit in my room in darkness, only my television occasionally illuminating my room, my laptop illuminating my face.
This is the only way I can calm myself down. This is the only way I can silence the self-loathing thoughts.
Others can be extraordinarily mean to me... but I am definitely the most vicious of all-- to myself.
Somehow, I always manage to make this girl feel like the stupidest, ugliest, oldest, and most useless creature to inhabit the earth-- like the worst waste of space.
I don't think I'll ever be able to stop-- I've tried, but it only worsens with the passage of time.
No, not in participating-- that ship sailed long ago-- but attending.
The last quince I attended didn't hit me this hard... maybe because I'm not as close to that family as I am to tonight's family.
Maybe I wasn't as upset then because I basically just went in and out.
Today I sat at the party from the very beginning. I had time to sit and admire my surroundings.
And then the nostalgia monster attacked me-- violently.
Maybe I had a worse time because many of the teens present reminded me of my friends, family, and me at that age... we all do look alike, after all.
I was transported to the early '00's... which hit me pretty hard. I thought of the style, the music... the slang of the time. I thought of what it actually felt like to be a hopeful little 14 year old girl... excited about the years to come.
Excited about the upcoming years dating and flirting with boys.
Excited about finally growing out of your awkward chubby stage.
Excited about how cute your crush(es) is (are) going to get.
Excited about the motherfucking future!
God, I was so jealous of those kids and their youth... like some wicked witch in a fairy tale (now I understand why they do all that mean shit).
I was fine, smiling for most of the party... memories do make me feel warm and chirpy for a minute or two.
But the MEAN nostalgia monster takes over... and everything goes to hell.
"AND LOOK AT YOU NOW!" it seems to scream at me.
I lose all concentration and stare idly at the ground as two thirds of the room hit the dance floor-- my conscious paralyzing me with its crippling insults.
"How many of those teen dreams came true for YOU, AnoMALIE?! How much advantage did you take of your youth?! NONE!" it continues to abuse me. "You are A-L-O-N-E! Your dreams are D-E-A-D."
And I finally lose my cool and beg to go home.
And so we do.
I get home, and can't even look at myself in the mirror as I power-walk to my room. I feel like the oldest, ugliest spinster in the world, I fear seeing an old, wrinkled catlady in the reflection. An idiot who wasted her life.
I wash my face and sit in my room in darkness, only my television occasionally illuminating my room, my laptop illuminating my face.
This is the only way I can calm myself down. This is the only way I can silence the self-loathing thoughts.
Others can be extraordinarily mean to me... but I am definitely the most vicious of all-- to myself.
 |
| Pre-party, knowing all too well how psychologically fucked up I will be returning. |
I don't think I'll ever be able to stop-- I've tried, but it only worsens with the passage of time.
At least everyone was nice to me at this shindig, not a single backhanded compliment was given. There's that.
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