i’m ashamed of saying things. i’m ashamed of every word that comes out of my mouth sometimes. i don’t feel this way a lot, but when i do i rethink everything i say twice, thrice, maybe more, and nine times out of ten i decide not to say it.
i can see my reflection on my phone and i’m ashamed of what i see. i imagine a voice yelling at me, saying i don’t have to be, but the more i look at my reflection, the more i think i do.
every word feels wrong sometimes. i have a bad habit of trying to predict the first automatic thoughts in people’s heads in reaction to something i’ve said, and my first thought is annoyance. they’re clicking their tongue at me and thinking, “what the hell? she’s so frustrating”
i know that is wrong, and even if someone does react that way it is none of my business. but when i feel like this, i can’t swim my way out of it. it becomes my business and not theirs. its my business to not annoy them, whoever they are.
during moments like this, i involuntarily imagine everyone close to me seeing something i’ve said and their instant response is to be tired of it. it scares me so much that i end up trying to say less, close to nothing of substance. nothing reactionary. i feel ashamed for being ashamed, because it’s not sad anymore. it’s frustrating. it’s a bad feeling that refuses to leave no matter what i do or say, or no matter what others do or say.
i’ve been noticing, more and more, how i veer away from loud noises, or how i try to stay as silent as i can at all times. even if no one’s home, i only watch or listen to things with headphones in. if i play things out loud, i feel deeply uncomfortable. i keep the volume low, even with my headphones connected. i try increasing it sometimes but i invariably put it back down again.
but i still like loud things. i like noise. i like when you walk into a crowded room and you can barely hear yourself think because chatter seems to be filling up all the space between people.
and i like loud people. i like people who talk and and talk and talk, who won’t let a second of quiet settle. it sounds smothering, but i like being smothered perhaps.
maybe my issue is with the sound i, myself, produce. i don’t talk out loud all that frequently. it comes down to the little things too; i will always set a cup down with my pinky finger first, to avoid the clatter of glass against a surface. i will close doors as slowly as possible (but sometimes they creak and then i cringe all the way through). where i’m living for the next month, the bathroom door does a loud bang when you open it and then again when you shut it. i have to do it with force or the latch doesn’t stick. vacuuming is the worst part of the day, always.
it’s something i need to get over, except i don’t know why this is a habit in the first place. i was never reprimanded for making too much noise. i was never quieted when i talked. but i do it myself. i reprimand myself. i quiet myself.
couple this with feeling so much shame for simply thinking sometimes, and it’s suffocating. it’s suffocating. i can’t find a fix for it except forcing through all of it, which i must do whether i want to or not.
but i think i just wanted to complain. while writing these posts i’m never sure if i’ll end up uploading them or not. for this one, i’m even less sure. there are multiple drafts floating around unposted- too pretentious, too whiny, too this, too that. but it’s all the same thing, i’m ashamed of all of this. i’m ashamed of saying things. i’m ashamed of every word that comes out of my mouth sometimes.
