Same girl.

Everyone wants to say that they've changed. I kept telling myself that every new year's: "Oh my god, I've changed SO much this year! I can't believe I used to be that person." But that's not true. I've been the same for years. There were maybe three years total of my life during which I underwent a serious change, and those were all normal parts of growing up. So what?

Truth is, I'm the same exact person I was in high school. I thought I would change. I thought I would get to college and have an epiphany about being a free, wild spirit who partied and still maintained cool nerd status. That didn't happen. I thought I'd be free from the mass bred stupidity I experienced daily at both of my high schools. But I'm not free from it and no queer ever is.

Just because my surroundings changed doesn't mean I have. In high school, the tree in front of my principal's office, the long charcoal-covered desks in my makeshift art room, and the guy I tried to ignore in the hallways did not shape who I was. They were just objects. They were not me. They are not any more me than my dorm room is now, than my college's 24/7 library is, than my acne-inducing queer student union is. I am not these things. I exist despite these things. I am just drifting, and objects and people and places are floating in and out of my life and I'm not grasping them because I learned long ago that nothing is truly graspable. Go with the flow, my guitar teacher always told me. What the hell does that mean?

I'm still the girl who is too embarrassed to speak up when it matters most. Still the girl who hid in the bathroom or the library during high school lunch. Still the girl who doesn't know how to make friends, only now I have lost the desire to do so. I'm still the girl who would rather hold and smell a book than a person, who would rather look at pictures of food online than eat it, who would rather pet cats than go meet someone new. And these are not things I'm proud of.

I'm still the person who resents what happened instead of senior prom. I'm still the person who refuses to promote her own music. I'm still the person who hates anyone who has the balls to do so. I'm still the one who is nasty, mean, sarcastic, and over emotional, or sometimes not emotional at all. I'm still the one who feels sick every time she eats, who dislikes everyone off and online, who has no idea how to begin or finish conversations, and who has lost every ounce of wanting to appear like I am the opposite of any of these things.

I have always been the person who gets hurt at a passing comment not meant for me. I am still the person who gets defensive over her fellow queers and atheists and vegans and feminists, and even when I know getting pissed won't solve a damn thing, it's still the only thing I'm proud of. I'm still the one writing angry blog posts. I'm still only playing nice with teachers and no one else. I'm still hating everything about everything and loving nothing about the world, because every time I do, something happens to remind me that everything is doomed and I'm still the 14 year old girl who blasted My Chemical Romance when she felt sad, sick, and desperate. Still the girl who refuses to see a psychiatrist because I don't want to cry in front of any more people than I already do. Still the girl who refuses to see a doctor about why food makes me sick because I know they'll blame it on my veganism. Still the girl who hides when she sees people from her high school. Still the girl who is too fragile to not get hurt by people's words online. Still have no idea who I want to be, but unlike my high school self, I know now that my surroundings can not influence that. I have to choose it for myself.

And I still have no idea what to call this blog post.