Killing the Diva, Rasing the Z

I lack substence. And that's something I've been afraid of. I've been coasting on common ground (like school), style (the Diva) and people's interest in something that doesn't necessarily have to do with me, a person (sex, teasing).

I've been relying on such a strong characteristic of style to speak volumes for me. The Diva is a crutch. I'm addicted to her, and being her. The attention. That's all she thrives on, that's all she is. And that's all people see. That isn't the person I should strive to be. Correction: that isn't the person I want to be.

So how do you fix something that's defined you for a good deal of your life? How do you kill a part of you that worms its way out into the open and doesn't go queitly?

With a shotgun, that's how.

But really? Finding substence. Learning about things, developing a real interest in things and existing not as a doll, but as human being. But I don't know the first thing about that.

And maybe that's a consequence of surrounding myself with people who didn't ask for more of me. We satisfied ourselves on simply being a mirror that reflected the size of our egos and nothing more. Ugh. There's so much work to do.

So I'll learn. And I'll learn fast. It's the fear of losing my place in society as an actual person that overrides the fear of not being an interesting person. It's the fear of being loved for something people don't know isn't there. Looking at what I've got now, I don't have anything to lose.

Oy muffins.