Not a Mac Nerd.
I really like the rain. As I typed that the apartment literally just lit up and I had a very literal flashback to my Mum always making us turn off the computer when there was lightening....is that a real thing? Am I about to be zapped to smithereens? Oh well.
Back to my original statement, I really like the rain. It makes me feel cosy, I even wrote about it a few years ago on my old blog "Let me tell you Astoria" (from when I lived in Astoria...I'm so quirky and intelligent, keep calm). That site has since been shut down but I remembered that post and suddenly had this overwhelming desire to read them all. So I just spent the last 45 minutes scouring the internet for my archives and alas I found them and imported them into another one of my old blogs so I could read them...
It's honestly the most bizzare feeling. It's all so la-di-da, you can barely tell I was imploding.
It was only a few years ago now that I wrote those blogs, yet I feel like I don't even know that person. My first year alone in the city was both the best and worst time of my life all wrapped into one. I was emotionally and mentally exhausted, all the time. I was overstimulated and and probably a little overmedicated, I was so young, yet trying to fill the shoes of someone much older.
I lasted about two months in college before the darkside of the city took it's toll and I was forced to take a semester (or two...) off. I got involved with some of the best and some of the worst people I had ever known, some of whom seem like dreams as opposed to reality. I was riddled with anxiety attacks, afraid to go home at night and would instead choose to spend my nights either intoxicated and crying or wandering around until the business men appeared for work the next day.
People I met and became friends with got to know this weird altered version of myself and associated that to everything I was, forcing me to live this weird blurred existence and constantly feeling like a stranger. I struggled a lot.
I liked to think I faked it well but looking back I probably didn't do as well as I hoped. The memory of sitting on a bench in midtown at 4am, crying to my friend Danilo because I was so emotionally exhausted and demanding him to hang up the phone is way to clear a memory for that first part to be true.
It's like when you tell a lie and you end up tangled in this web that you can't seem to unravel your way out of, but my whole personality around most people was a lie. The facts I was giving were true (although my hair was fake....I literally had a fake wig sewed/glued to my head....if that isn't a giant red flag I don't know what is) I never changed my name (half true...I did have a fake name for a while with one certain group of people but that's because I didn't want them to be able to find me...always a good sign...) or pretended I was royalty, but my personality was so foreign to me. I was so weak and fragile, I would let peoples words change who I was or how I acted, I befriended bad people, and I lost myself.
Little baby Jordyn....and little baby Jordyn's fake hair.
It's not that I had everything to hide, it's just that I was very confused, all the time. I didn't know what I wanted or where I was going, or who I was. I remember one morning leaving my friends apartment and spending about 15 minutes throwing up into the bushes (luckily nobody saw me...I don't think). I wasn't sick, I wasn't hungover, I wasn't anything. It's like my mind and body was just so tired and confused it didn't know what to do so it imploded on itself.
I'm going to stop rewording the same sentence over and over again now and simply end this here. I have since removed a lot of people from my life, changed my environment and what I was doing. I'm slightly less confused about life. I have re-prioritized a lot of things, and most importantly I'm happier.
Oh and it would totally make a killer memoir.
So there is always a bright side.
