I think I am Mary Elizabeth in real life.
Before anything else, I would like to think that what you’re about to read might probably be the one of the most honest things I will ever write about myself.
It’s weird. With that in mind, it feels like a huge weight on my chest is gone. You see, whenever I write, I always consider how I would look or sound like to the reader. I think I unconsciously change the way I write so that other people would view me as the fake, fantasy Redg I want people to know.
Before I write, I have so many thoughts I want to write down but in the end not a lot gets to the final cut because I fuss over word choices, punctuation, and other trivial things like perfecting my grammar, sentence construction, and thought flow. So please forgive me if something is off with what you’re about to read. This nitpicking the trivial stuff results in either me changing what I want to write about or just not writing about it entirely. This makes me sad, like, legitimately sad because I take my writing seriously. I mean, seriously in a ‘I’d like to improve and be better way’ and not in an ‘aloof writer kind of way’.
Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah, Mary Elizabeth.
I have a love-hate relationship with what might be considered as ‘mainstream’. I love One Direction and Daniel Padilla. I don’t think the Twilight movies are crap. I listen to Rihanna and Miley Cyrus. So I don’t think I hate things just based on its mainstream-ness. No, I hate things when people I don’t like start liking things. I hate these things based on a personal principle. I know this is not just me being crazy because I know a lot of people who are like this too.
In 2012, everybody started quoting lines from Chbosky’s novel, The Perks of Being A Wallflower EVERYWHERE. On Twitter, on Facebook, and on people’s About Me section. This included a girl I went to high school with (who’s perfectly okay except for the fact she is an attention-seeking, unoriginal, faker).
I put off reading the book dismissing it as another trashy overrated teen novel.
I watched the movie just for the sole reason of Emma Watson. The movie surprised me. That shit is dark. The way people talked about it, it sounded like a novel with the characters ending up getting ice cream after the last day of high school.
I feel like I need to explain to you the context of this sudden introspection. Today is Christmas Day. We just got back from a reunion with our relatives, where my brother received a copy of Chbosky’s The Perks of Being A Wallflower. I asked if I can borrow it and promised him that I’ll finish and return it by tomorrow.
I finished the book in less than three hours.
The character that struck me the most wasn’t Sam or Charlie. It wasn’t even Patrick who was my favorite character in the movie. It was Mary Elizabeth.
Mary Elizabeth struck me as this pretentious, talkative, and loud girl whom Charlie dated. In the beginning, I totally get why Charlie didn’t really like her that much. But it was this part that really made me put the book down and curse out loud.
“She also keeps talking about the Billie Holiday record she bought for me. And she says she wants to expose me to all these great things. And to tell you the truth, I don’t really want to be exposed to all these great things if it means that I’ll have to hear Mary Elizabeth talk about all the great things she exposed me to all the time. It almost feels like of the three things involved: Mary Elizabeth, me, and the great things, only the first one matters to Mary Elizabeth. I don’t understand that. I would give someone a record so they could love the record, not so they would always know that I gave it to them.”
Now, I like to think that I have good taste in things like music, books, and movies. And every once in a while (read: almost everytime) I recommend my favorites to my friends. I would love to be remembered as “that friend who introduced me to Veronica Mars” or “that friend that made me realize One Direction is perfect”. I wouldn’t mind it at all. It does not belittle me as a friend. In fact, I think it makes me an even memorable person. It’s probably because I never forget it when people recommend good books or music to me.
Is there something wrong with this kind of thinking? I mean, if Charlie hated this particular trait then does that mean it’s a bad one? Yeah, I’d like it if people would associate me with a song or something. I even consider it to be romantic.
The reason why I’m so bothered with this is that I came from a relationship where we shared what we liked to each other. Well, obviously, we broke up eventually but I’d like to think that that person remembers me (fondly, I hope) through the stuff I recommended.
I don’t know if any of our friends noticed the exchange of cruel vague tweets. Even though we have been broken up for a long time, we recently(-ish) had this huge fight. Let’s call that person Flint. Anyway, Flint said a lot of things and (I don’t know if I misunderstood some things so I apologize in advance) he explained that he never felt good about himself because of me. He said that he knows that I know (or think?) that he is who he is partly because of me and that shit kind of just choked him.
I didn’t really understand it when he explained it, but now I think I was just his Mary Elizabeth.
“She (Candace) said that by introducing me to all these great things, Mary Elizabeth gained a “superior position” that she wouldn’t need if she was confident about herself. She also said that people who try to control situations all the time are afraid that if they don’t, nothing will work out the way they want.”
I try to act as if I got myself all figured out. But after reading that, I realized that I still have a lot of insecurities. I try not to show them all the time but they manage to creep up during the most inopportune moments. I don’t know, I guess I kind of hate myself that I still fall prey to my own weaknesses.
I tell myself that I’m ready for another shot at romantic love and the only thing I’m waiting for is the right person to fall in love with. Now, I’m second-guessing myself. Am I whole enough to share myself with somebody? I don’t know. Or maybe I don’t want to know just yet.
I’ll just try and focus on more important things from now on. Like, oh I don’t know… graduating college, perhaps? This sucks. I imagined that after writing, I would feel more free but I think I’m even more confused that I was before I started. Oh well, just another twentysomething complaining about being confused in life. What’s new in the Internet.
Anyway, I this post still makes a perfect 5th year blog anniversary post. Happy holidays!