LJ Idol Week 2: Living rent-free in your head

[flipflop_diva]

Alanna moved in when I was just a kid. We were about the same age and had a lot in common. We liked to play with our dolls and trade stickers, and we’d spend hours poring over coloring books. Other times, we’d head outside and play with a ball or make chalk drawings all over the sidewalks. She was my best friend, and she understood me like no one else.

Back when I was a kid, I thought Alanna was perfect. She was beautiful and popular and funny and smart. She always knew the right thing to say, and she wasn’t shy or unsure like I was most of the time. I looked up to her and envied her and wished so hard I could be her.

“You can be,” she would say. “You just have to try harder.”

“But I’m scared,” I’d whisper, watching the cool kids play on the jungle gym at school. I knew I should just get up and walk over to them and join in. What’s the worst that could happen? But I was frozen in place, feeling every bit the clumsy, awkward girl, who was too tall and too ugly, that I was.

“You’re a wimp,” Alanna said. “You’re never going to be anything with that attitude.”

I didn’t say anything. I knew she was right. So I settled for sitting on the grass and watching the other kids play.

•••

As the years passed, my interactions with Alanna became fewer. She didn’t come around nearly as much as she used to, and we barely spent time together doing anything fun. I made new friends who I could hang out with and do things with, and most of the time I was almost happy.

But none of my new friends understood my deepest, darkest self like Alanna did. Maybe that’s why she always seemed to be the one who was around when I was at my lowest.

“You’re so dumb,” she’d say, when I was struggling to finish my essay for history the night before it was due. “Why do you wait so long to start this stuff? If you’re tired tomorrow, it’s your own fault.”

“You’re delusional,” she’d say when we were at the school dance, standing off to the side, watching the other, cooler, more popular girls dance with the cute boys. “Why would anyone ever want to dance with you? You’re ugly. No one’s ever going to want you.”

“You were stupid for even hoping,” she’d say, the night I learned I didn’t make the team captain of the drill team, a position I had tried so hard to win. I had practiced for hours upon hours, and I thought I had performed really well. But Alanna had been there, and she knew I hadn’t. “You’re not good enough to be a captain of anything,” she said. “What a waste even trying.”

I nodded as she talked. I always nodded as she talked. No matter what she said, a part of me knew that she was right. She saw me, who I truly was, and she was the only one who was brave enough to tell me the truth.

•••

The weird thing about Alanna was the more I changed, the more confident I became, the less she came around. And when she did, she never seemed to notice the changes. She was always just the same mean, dismissive, abusive girl she had always been — pointing out everything bad and making it seem like the world was ending.

“You’ll never get married,” she’d say, but then I met David, and he didn’t see any of the things Alanna saw.

“You shouldn’t have kids,” she said after David and I got married. “You’d be a horrible mother.”

I almost nodded at her words, almost ready to fall back on old behaviors. But then I frowned. And for maybe the first time in my life I realized that Alanna was wrong. That Alanna didn’t know me. That Alanna saw in me things that scared her but that weren’t actually there and weren’t actually true.

I looked at myself in the mirror, looked down at the tiny little bump that you could only see if I stood a certain direction while wearing a certain shirt, and looked back up at myself.

“Hey, Alanna,” I told the voice in my head, the one that had been there since I was a child and needed a friend. “Why don’t you just shut the fuck up and leave?”

•••

Alanna didn’t leave, not entirely. She’ll probably always be there, whispering words of doubt and pointing out failures. But I’m older now, a little wiser, a lot more confidant, and I know now that she doesn’t know everything.

Sometimes I just have to remember to remind the face in the mirror of that very thing.



This was written for Week 2 of therealljidol. I hope you enjoyed it! If you would like to read more entries, you can head over here. If you would like to vote for any of the entries, voting should be up Monday night at therealljidol.

Comments

[brkfastatholly.livejournal.com]

Another amazing twist on the ending - you are a master of those! :)
Can definitely relate hard to this one, as I'm sure lots and lots of people can.... brains are total jerks sometimes.
<3333

[sweeny-todd.livejournal.com]

Alanna doesn't know you! I am glad that you outgrew her - even if she still pops around.

[nikkiii-brown.livejournal.com]

Yes, Alanna, just stfu! Great entry!

[karmasoup.livejournal.com]

Good riddance - and stay out!

[pixiebelle.livejournal.com]

I understand that awful voice in my head all too well. I’m finally at a place to tell her to STFU too.

[millysdaughter.livejournal.com]

I had friends like Alanna. More of them than the good kind, to be honest.

[halfshellvenus.livejournal.com]

Self-doubt can be so punishing, and it is SO easy to think that if anyone really 'knew you,' they would think less of you. Part of us almost always thinks that.

I'm glad you're growing away from the Alanna in your head. :)

[d0gs.livejournal.com]

This is so well written. I'm glad you're managing to distance yourself from the voice of Alanna!

[m-malcontent.livejournal.com]

Self doubt is the worst.

[rayaso.livejournal.com]

What a great ending! I loved the twist, that Alanna was a voice in your head and not a real person. Until the end, I kept thinking, what kind of a friend is this?

[adoptedwriter.livejournal.com]

Negative self talk can be so toxic. Never let it stop you. Hugs.

[brienneofsnark.livejournal.com]

:smiles: I love the twist in the end. This was a fun piece to read but I can relate to so much in this. Good for you for outgrowing Alanna.

[marlawentmad.livejournal.com]

The reminding is a practice and hard work. I relate to this so deeply.