I really really really wish I could go back to being 10 years old.
When I was a kid I had so much faith in the world and I was so optimistic.
Believe it or not, I didn’t worry too much. And I trusted everyone who was in my life to make the right choices, and treat me nicely a la the golden rule, and keep me safe and teach me what I needed to know etc.
Now, I basically don’t trust anyone as far as I can throw them as much as I want to, I’m just too afraid.
For example: Reasons to be Pretty (the show I directed this semester) opened last night. It went better than I could have ever imagined. The audience was really into the show, and people were definitely affected (or is it effected? shouldn’t have trusted that third grade teacher to teach me the difference properly) and I got basically, rave reviews.
And I know, in my heart that I did a good job and my actors did a great job and my lighting design was wonderful. We put in a lot of hard work and frankly, at the risk of sounding boastful, it showed.
But I can’t convince myself that people HONESTLY liked it.
I tell myself: “they only said I LOVED IT!! because they had to, or felt obligated to.”
Because thats what I do when I don’t really like a show, of course right? Everyone does.
Or when it comes to my boyfriend. My sainted loving boyfriend. I see girls (pretty ones) posting on his facebook wall and I KNOW that I shouldn’t let it bother me. I KNOW that he would never cheat on me, and its not really him I don’t trust. Its basically every female he comes into contact with! Which is PSYCHOTIC. And part of me knows that some of it is justified. Because I know females, and I know how we work and basically… I speak girl. And maybe I’m wrong and I’m the only girl in his life that wants to get in his pants (but I think we both know thats not true internet, right?) The IMPORTANT thing, I remind myself is that I’m the only one who gets to get into said pants and vice-versa. And all the girls in the all the land can write “omg I wanna wrestle tongues with you!!!” on his wall (no wall posts actually say that, they are actually all pretty benign and I’m just ridiculous.) and I just need to know that it doesn’t matter, I’m number one, the dream girl, and boys and girls can be “just friends”…….sometimes.
Or my friends. AHHHH THEY ARE MY FRIENDS FOR CHRISSAKES. They asked me if I wanted to come out to dinner with them after my show and I said yes and immediately after I said yes I started to think, “ugh they probably only invited me because they felt like they had to.” Now logic says that this is not true, and yet I squirmed in the booth for about the first 9 minutes I was there trying to convince myself I was welcome, hell that my company was even truly DESIRED.
The moral of this story is that I am a freak. As many of my stories end.