I would often feel guilty for desiring alone time and not wanting to spend all my time with friends or family; however, I really was just unaware that my social battery was worn out.
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Desperate to become one of the pack, I sought out the school’s “it-girl” and made it my mission to befriend her. Or become her.
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We would always feel left out and wonder what we were doing wrong, why couldn’t we make friends?
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Recently I’ve become aware of another guest sitting beside procrastination at my table: self-sabotage.
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But how had I gone seventeen years without any of the adults in my life noticing symptoms?
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They fail to realize the anger and resentment of their 10-year-old not wanting to talk to them is in fact–and stay with me here–their own fault.
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I had my first kiss alongside Lady Bird and Rory Gilmore, smoked and drank with the cast of Freaks and Geeks, and ran away with the love of my life in Moonrise Kingdom.
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We rely on the chance of love. The chance you’ll find the one during your morning bagel trip. Or maybe that’s just me.
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If this is true, what actions have made masculinity so toxic, and is it salvagable?
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