Paper Airplanes (Makeshift Wings)

I didn’t write yesterday, I’m sorry. I said that I would write soon and then I missed a day.

I am stretching, slowly growing out of my skin I think. I feel some trapped and encapulsated by an overwhelming feeling at school. The university I go to is relatively small, that being said it is also relatively new as an university. The people who go there for the most part are fresh out of high school, couldn’t get into the older, more prestigious university in my city. They’re people who still live at home with mommy and daddy. They’re people who subscribe to normalacy, to a hetero normative life script of I want a white picket fence plus accompanying children.

It’s not everyone who goes there but still. There’s enough that I feel an overwhelming sense of just not wanting to be there as much.

I do not want a white picket fence. I do not want a normal family. I do not want to have massive amounts of shitty consumer things and being incredibly false to who I am. I do want a job where I have some kind of security, I have worked with unions before and I love how they take care of their members. I would rather work for an university or the government because for the most part they are not run by psycho. Or cater to people who behave rather poorly. Or companies that I don’t agree with ethically or morally.

The other thing that has been bothering me lately is the influx of people writing ‘notes’ on social media sites about things that have happened to them. Things that seem like they’re just huge please look at me ‘notes’. I understand that bad things happen to people. I know that the world is not perfect and there is an untold amount of things that are horrible that happen to people.

However.

When you write posts about how you pregnant at age 18 and did not chose to have an abortion, you chose to give birth to that child at least pretend you had the choice. At least give it some kind of lip service other than I’m already a terrible person but I couldn’t do that.

Having a child is difficult. It is not something that should be gone into lightly in my opinion. I am of the school of though that you should at least have some kind of perspective or directive of how your life is going or will be going before you have a child that’s realistic. That’s just my belief.

I am pro choice. I trust women.

Now to go back to the meat of why their look at me notes bother me . It’s as if they’re competing in Oppression Olympics. Yeah you may be depressed but I got raped by my uncle. Oh yeah, well I had to give up my child because I had a fall from grace I was no longer a good girl. Hmpftt, yeah well my significant other doesn’t understand me, doesn’t understand that I need to be poly.

It. Just. Gets. So. Fucking. Much. They engage in group hugs, group circle jerks with each other essentially. They are told and pointed to as beacons of ‘building community’. You know what?-I don’t want to be a part of the community if they are being regarded as how to make friends. How to connect with people. I don’t. I am not defined by my tragedies or problems. I rally against the odds to come out alive and swinging.

And I will be damned before I ‘make friends’ or ‘socialize’ in the way that they do. I am an exceedingly proud creature. My value, my self worth, my importance are not based on the bad things that have happened to me. They’re not based on my weakness.

This got a bit more angry than I wanted it to.

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