Emotional Anarchist

I was a punk in high school. I don't mean punk in the way hip-hop people say it. I mean punk as in pointy hair, safety pins, leopard print. That kind of punk. I went to concerts at churches and restaurants, and gymnasiums, where I would run in circles and shove everyone I saw. They would shove me back. It was called a mosh pit. It was fun. I think the thing I really liked about punk rock is that it let me be someone else. I could go to a punk show and no one there knew me. As far as they knew, I was cool. I wasn't this dorky home schooled (super) Christian, hypersensitive, extremely unauthentic, nit necessarily non pathetic...you know. Whatever I was. I was not those things at a punk show. I was a punk, and I was shoving people. They shoved me back. It was called a mosh pit. It was fun. It had nothing to do with the rest of my life. Punk rock is about anarchy and rebellion. It was the essential middle finger in the face of anything we didn't want to deal with. Those people that hurt me in my "real" life? Don't matter. Don't need them. Don't need anyone. I haven't really called myself "punk" since high school, (and rightly so, I listen to Sufjan Stevens and Psapp, for crying out loud) but even so, I think I still carry that punk mentality with me when it comes to people. If you hurt me, I'm done with you. I don't need people who are going to mistreat me. I write off a lot of people rather quickly, actually. I do it before they have a chance to hurt me really badly. crimes worthy of such a punishment range from talking about me behind my back to forgetting to return my phone calls. there's this still, gentle voice inside of me that has been telling me for quite a few years that it is time to change my punk rock ways, but the punk rock voice isn't gentle, and it screams anarchy at the top of its lungs. I haven't heard the gentle voice for quite some time now. The gentle voice is actually kind of scary. It means that I'll be hurt and betrayed, and I have to heal and try again. No writing off, no anarchy, no pointy hair. I thought I was strong, but I realize how weak I am, and how little I've actually grown over these years when I'm faced with the need to try again. The only tools I have are sarcastic comments and leopard print. Sarcasm is just a glorified painkiller. It doesn't fix the problem. There's something else about community that I've never really experienced. I've never had anyone to share my worries with. I explain what I'm worried about to people, and they tell me what's bothering them, but at the end of the day, really what happens is that I take my problems home, and you take yours. I guess listening to the gentle voice would be helpful, because I don't like feeling alone. That's what being independent really is. It's the first stage of loneliness. I think one of the biggest problems I struggle with is fear of rejection. This makes it nearly impossible for me to talk to people I don't know. I know what you're thinking: how do I meet new people if I don't want to talk to people I don't know? Exactly. Exactly exactly. The thing I dislike most about Intervarsity is the first two weeks of school when we have the info table set up on campus. I get to face rejection about 50-100 times in one afternoon. I know it doesn't sound that bad, but for me, even complete strangers not wanting to talk to me for a few seconds just kills me. It's something I have to give up, but I just can't let go of it yet. Here's the thing. That whole independence trip I'm on makes me think that if something doesn't get done by me, it won't get done. I feel the constant need to be a one man army. It wasn't working, and I completely tanked last week. Alone. I think I'm done with alone. Yesterday, I was going forward to face a whole new set of rejections (I hate it, yet I keep volunteering to do it again). I decided I wasn't going to be a one man army anymore. I shared the burden of facing rejection with the others at the table with me. It didn't really even change anything about what I did, I just decided that I wasn't going to pretend to be strong when I clearly wasn't. Awkwardness is kind of funny. I learned that yesterday. Awkwardness comes with stupid jokes about turtle shells, rock galleries, free fliers, and most of all, orange peels. Yesterday was fun. I forgot that I was supposed to carry the weight of the world on my shoulders. I forgot I was supposed to care when some punk freshman doesn't want to talk to me. The punk rock voice was lost in the almost unbearable hum of a gentle whisper. I used to think I didn't need anyone. Today I think maybe I need everyone. How wonderful.