The Black Hole

Sometimes my self-hatred flares up even worse than usual. There's always a low-grade undercurrent of it throbbing through my head, tainting everything I see, hear, and do, but sometimes it rages across me so strongly that it completely stops every other thought and my brain literally feels like it will melt from the acid racing through it. And then I lock up in every area of my life -- sometimes to the point where I literally cannot talk.

It's been particularly bad this semester -- I'm taking eight classes, which I thought I could handle because I did it my last semester, but I failed to realise that last time I took eight classes they were all performing classes. In other words, they were things I have a natural aptitude for and also they don't require papers. This time, they're all academic classes. Which means papers. I may be a writer, but I'm in my third year of post-secondary and I have yet to write a half-decent paper. Academic writing just does not come naturally to me, and that, coupled with my already-crippling perfectionism, is a source of EXTREME stress. I don't have time to actually write the papers either, because I'm attending the eight classes... Add to this the fact that the flat has the LOUDEST heating system ever -- it literally wakes me up every time it runs. And I sleep like the dead. I have three very loud alarms set on my phone every morning and for the past three days I slept through every single one of them. But the heating system in the building wakes me up every. single. time. Add to that my already-near-crippling insecurity about my vocal abilities and the hit my performing abilities in general have taken, and you have a dangerous cocktail.

When I start into serious self-hatred mode, I get into this loop where no matter how much encouragement I receive, its effect is gone within seconds of my receiving it. I learnt long ago how to manipulate people into complimenting me, and though it's one of the things I hate the most about myself, I find myself doing it anyway at these times. This, of course, makes it worse because I already feel bad about myself and then I catch myself fishing for compliments again and then I feel even worse for putting the other person in that spot (seriously, there is nothing more awkward than being in a conversation with someone who is plainly fishing for compliments -- and I hate being that person), plus the encouragement I do get I suck dry within seconds and then start begging for more -- all without giving a single bit back. I'm just a black hole eating compliments and I can't stop it. So I hate myself even more for not being able to stop it, for not being able to live on one compliment a year like every one else does.

Why am I so needy? Why do I have to be that awkward person who takes but never, ever gives? Why does the coveted encouragement only last all of ten seconds before its effect is gone? Compliments don't make my whole day or even my whole minute -- they fade too fast. I'm torn between wanting more, hoping the next one will be the one that lasts and wanting to die so I can stop asking so much of so many and never being able to reciprocate.

The Plight Of The Short

I am five feet, three inches tall, and have been for about four years now (at least).
The next shortest person I know is something like five feet, seven inches tall.
This wouldn't be so bad if I lived in, say, the Philippines. But, no, I live in North America, where everyone and his chihuahua is taller than me. Unfortunately for me, North America is also the place where you must be a carbon copy of everyone else or they all ignore you -- while, of course, being politically correct and non-racist about it.
Do you know how socially awkward it is to be in a conversation with people two or three years younger than you and they literally talk over your head? It's made even worse by the fact that after a few minutes your neck gets sore and you can't look them in the eye because you have to lower your head. And then they think you're antisocial and abandon you completely.
So if you happen to be a tall person (five feet, five inches or more if you ask me), I ask you on behalf of short people everywhere to please at least look us in the eye every once in a while. I know it does wonders for my day after being (I hope) unintentionally ignored for weeks and weeks on end...
And if you happen to a short person, know you're not alone. My chiropractic bill for neck problems is frightening too.