A Collection of Spectacles

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sometimes i’m not sure that i’ve made the right choices. i’m just. afraid that i’m trying . striving too hard to be recognized for having a certain status in this absurd  teenage  social order. that i’m trying so hard to amount to something in front of people that i’m sacrificing my own feelings. burying them to the point that i’m starting to think that wanting more is selfish.

“what more could you ask for?”

“everything. i want it all.”

and. in the midst of it all. i just want to be found admirably attractive.

i’m trying to change this chapter that i’m writing for this book that i’m writing with claire. i think it’s decent so far. i’m my own worst critic.

i always have this urge to throw myself at people. to make them want me so that i can have the option of denying them. in some self absorbed sadistic way i enjoy having that type of power. but then i realize it’s not in my nature. to deny people. so i try to accept everyone even when it’s not right for me to do so.

 and, underlying is the notion that, if i make everyone happy, my covertly devious mannerisms will just disappear.
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