Author's Note: The title of this week's "Emmy's Logo Here" is the name of a song. The song, "Hummingbirds the Size of Bullets" by Kill Hannah is the song I listened to while writing this article, and if you listen to it and read the lyrics, it seems fitting. I know this week's column is shorter, but I hope you enjoy it all the same.
I am alone.
I'm not physically alone, I can see the family and friends around me; I see the teachers and coaches and teammates, and I know that I am not literally alone. But maybe that's the problem. Maybe I need space.
So I sludge through this daily routine, these small, simple things that I do every day. Somehow if I put them all together they resemble my life. Cutting vegetables for dinner. Hanging out with friends at the mall. Turning the lamps off in the house before I go to bed. Applying mascara to my dull eyes. As I was doing that very thing this morning, my hand shook and I got it all over the edge of my eye. Why? Because I realized I didn't want my life to be just that. A routine. Putting myself through the paces, till . . . till what?
This is what I think, and for that I feel utterly alone.
I wonder if I'm just a shallow person. I always think to myself, shouldn't I be feeling something more? Shouldn't I be thinking deeper, doing better things, making my mark? But I never pursue it. I just . . . live. I take up space. I breathe. I eat. I sleep. I talk, even if what is coming out of my mouth isn't really intelligent at all.
But I want to be something more.
Therefore I feel alone. I'm caught in this inward struggle of doing something besides just existing, and wanting to just relax and continue doing normal, unimportant teenage things, like going to The Blackout with my friends or lining up couches and TV's( Which Chazz seems to have a large supply of) and just play Halo for hours straight.
Not physically alone, but mentally. No one else can understand these things, no one else would listen. Even if they did, what would they think? They wouldn't be able to understand the feeling the way I do. Besides, I couldn't put it into words, anyways.
It almost makes me smile how my friends, my family, whoever I happen to surround myself with so I won't have to feel the hurt of being physically alone, look at me and think that I'm okay. That I'm just a normal teenager. That I'm content.
How else am I supposed to act? If I act how I feel, I'll lose everything.
I'll lose everyone.
I can hide the loneliness of my mind; but people will notice when it literally starts to take effect.