I noticed recently that Man Repeller has a monthly writing prompt. They ask aspiring writers to send in their work and publish one on the first Saturday of every month. I submitted this month and although mine was not featured, I thought I would post it anyway.
Fact: I am not a snob
Also a fact: I am prudish and insecure.
Throughout high school, fear plagued my every move. Fear of showing my true colours. Fear of being considered weird. I always had my guard up and sat quietly, eating my salad, while people talked around me. It wasn’t until the end of grade 12 and the beginning of University that I pulled out the topknot ballerina bun and began “living”.
At the age of 18, living means doing the same stupid shit that your friends are doing. This includes but is not limited to drinking, smoking weed, and playing dunb to get noticed by guys. I would jump into pools with my clothes on, take long enough drags out of bongs to hurt my head, and gulp down whatever came out of the funnel during summer parties. The funny thing is that none of this got me a boyfriend, respect, or lasting friendships, it just made me look stupid.
The stupidity heightened one evening when the guy I was seeing broke up with me. It was at my friend’s house, in her hot tub when I tried to kiss him, the taste of marijuana still on my tongue but he backed off and said a simple no. I drove home high, drunk, tired, and without my contact lenses on. I got into bed utterly embarrassed and stunningly surprised that my friends let me drive home and that I actually made it there in one piece. There were other evenings that I’m not proud of; sneaking out to meet a boy, lying to my parents to meet up with people they didn’t approve of, spending evenings at the park smoking weed and wallowing in self-pity.
I began to settle into my own skin around the time my sister got married in Dominican. With no schedule and 24 hours to my family and myself, I felt at ease for the first time since University. On our second evening there, I went to the club on the resort with all of my cousins and my boyfriend. I clichéd the crap out of that night; dancing like no one was watching, laughing like the world was going to end, and living as though there was no tomorrow. I did not give a second or third thought to what people thought about me, or if I looked like a fool while I was dancing. It was my night and I felt free.
It would take four years, three failed “relationships”, a few fake friendships, and one incredibly wonderful boyfriend for me to understand that letting your hair down is not about being reckless, naïve, or carefree to a stupid degree. It’s about being so heart-stoppingly comfortable in your own skin that nothing else matters. It’s about living in the moment and chasing after your dreams. It’s about rocking the fuck out of your life.
*** Have an idea for a writing prompt?? Once a week I’ll choose a topics that’s been tweeted, emailed, texted, or shouted at me and write about 500 words on it. I’ll write anything from essays to blogs to fiction to poetry and am game for any topic thrown my way!**