The Angry Introduction

I am a very angry person and I think I know why. I grew up in a wealthy suburb on Long Island, and at the beginning, when I was in the 3rd grade, even up to 8th grade, though finances were never great, they were never as bad as they got in the next four years. We rarely went out to dinner or took extravagant vacations. My parents owned their own business so even if they had the money, they didn't have the time. I mostly blocked it out. Because in high school, your financial status didn't matter that much. Your friends were still your friends, and you still went to the movies and the mall on the weekends. No one could drive until practically senior year anyway. I could still buy expensive jeans and over-priced sweatpants, and I did well in school graduating with a stellar academic record and several good AP exam scores.

At last! College would be my savior. At the time, I had amassed quite a collection of clothing and shoes so I was ok in that department. I would be able to get away from Long Island and the north and be on my own and leave everything behind me. And it seemed like it worked. I had a fun four years at college, though I did develop extreme neurotic mental habits. I always thought everyone was smarter, and better than me. I was always stressed with my workload even if it was quite manageable. I wanted to extract the most fun I possibly could out of college, but yet felt guilty about not paying more attention to my studies because my parents were paying for the expensive tuition and surely would be mortified if they knew how often I hit bars. I was happy and depressed at the same time. I faced so many issues during that time. Being in a sorority I didn't feel connected to. Feeling resentful for my lack of money. Feeling like I didn't know anything about music or other issues, that I hadn't experieneced so much that others had, simply because they had more growing up. I felt so behind. I can't express it better than that. I felt so behind. Behind in status, in money, in experiences, in knowledge, in power, in action, in talent, in connections, in everything that you could possibly be behind in. Sometimes when I think back to college, I wonder how I got through. I wonder how I even made friends. Why did people want to be friends with me? What did I have to offer but pessimism and complaints? I didn't have a beach house that everyone could crash at. I wasn't funnier than the average person, if even that. But somehow I did make it through, graduating and with friends.

What I lacked was self-confidence and poise. What I lacked was a home. Even though I have friends, I can't tell you how many bridges I have burned over the years. I have friend-keeping problems, especially amongst those who I develop any level of intimacy. For a dumb or made-up reason, an argument ensues, and the friendship is ended. All of that hard work, all of that effort and time, wasted, because I messed up. In my head, it's always rationalized somehow..Well he/she demanded too much of my time, they were being disloyal, they betrayed me, when in fact there were no valid reasons for my being angry and instigating the fight of all fights. I did this in high school, in college, and post-college, in philadelphia and in new york. I have these "standards." These standards for other people that would be impossible to meet, and are even impossible for myself. You think I would learn from these mistakes but do I? Here I sit, complaining about my lack of friends, lack of networks, and yet I know I have cut ties with so many people, for what I believed were valid reasons. I always thought something was wrong with them and that there were better people waiting out there. Now I believe I may be wrong. Perhaps I am the wrong person in the world.