When I was in my early adolescence, I patiently waited for my confidence to skyrocket because:
And probably a few more wishful thinkings .
None of these things happened exactly the way I imagined, and some of them didn’t even happen at all (my feet did eventually stop growing, but not until a whopping 9.5). What I concentrated on, and sometimes still concentrate on, is the imaginary audience. Yes, I did and sometimes still do suffer from that syndrome. I’ve read that that’s normal. For you who are less than knowledgeable about psychology matters,
The imaginary audience refers to an egocentric state where an individual imagines and believes that multitudes of people are enthusiastically listening to or watching him or her. (thanks, Wikipedia!)
I worried about what I was gonna wear, how I looked when I talked or laughed, how my pants made my butt look - it can’t be too big or too small; frankly I still worry about this - and how broad my shoulders appeared from behind. I used to worry about how tightly I could squeeze my calves together when I crossed my legs (now I can almost double cross - yay lack of muscles), and now I worry about my posture, and my height, still, and even more about how I look when I talk or laugh.
But why? Why do I, and why do so so many other people, worry about these kinds of things? It’s gotta be more than imaginary audience, I’m sure of it. I’m still trying to figure out a layman’s theory to explain it.
A while back I decided that I’m carefully not going to care. It’s specific. I’m not going to care about being the best out of everyone; I’m going to care about being the best out of me. See the failure of the parallel sentence structure, but you get what I’m saying, don’t be thick. I decided it was more important to me to get the best out of life, because I only get one shot here on earth. Those moments where I concentrated on what others would think of me, even what I thought others were thinking of me, are moments I’ll never retrieve. I just want to live life to the fullest, and this is one way I’m going to do that.
Take every thought captive, because it only takes one to take you captive.
One time I got a compliment from an anon and I brown-girl-blushed.
Dear grey faced anon, where have you gone? Why have you not revealed yourself?
(please be a boy)