Assimilation of the Masses: An Outcry

Assimilation

Assimilation. 

It has a variety of meanings, yes, but in this context, it will be simply described as this: becoming something you are not. 

While you might think that it is not to a point of degradation, it is for me. I am no longer going to subject myself to the role of "outcast" out of every production that occurs in my life. No, I am no theater geek to refer to my life events as productions, but you'd think that with the emotion I write, I might as well be. Since that is the only thing that people really think as soon as they realize that what they've been reading is, ultimately, a rant. 

Well, bite me. I should be allowed the privilege to rant. I may not like your type of music, but you know what, I can strike a conversation and be interested in it for the sake of seeing you light up as you find something you're fond of to talk about. You know why I do that... because I would enjoy that too, if I were you. But I'm not. 

I would enjoy seeing someone, anyone, show at least a feigned interest into something I'm passionate about. And no, I do not mean arguing my messed up conservative views because truthfully, I'm still figuring those out for myself. I certainly do not want someone else's voice overpowering my own conscience at night... when I feel the deepest solitude a person can humanely feel.

Aren't we all products of our environment? A very haphazard and outspoken friend of mine reminds me of this fact on a daily basis. However, I have lived so sheltered yet so thrown-off-the-edge, that I don't recognize what environment I came from. Was it the motel that reeked of tobacco and lottery tickets? Was it the creaky twin bed I shared with my pregnant mother? Or was it the big house with the lawn where I cried on the rooftop when my father wasn't there sitting with me, and where my true resentment began to form? What can you say about me from what I have written up to this point? You can tell me how I'm dramatic or maybe I'm depressed, and it might sound cliche but I rid you of your "job" to label me. As a fact, society can't even sort me into the most appropriate "label", so you know what, you're wrong. 

You're wrong to think that I need to listen to the latest music, that I need to smoke through my pain, or that I need to dive headfirst into piles of work. Two out of these three options, I can say for a fact, do not work. Why go for the third? Then again, why do I need to wallow in my self-pity, denying that I have no one to turn to that genuinely thinks about me constantly. Because there isn't, let me tell you that. There isn't someone I am completely comfortable with, who I don't feel the need to put up a face for. I can complain to you, I can reach out to you, but at the end of the day, I do not need to bear my problems onto you. If you're reading this, and you think it doesn't apply to you, think again. 

Assimilation. 

I am so caught up into what YOU like. And what HE likes or what SHE likes, or the food that I HAVE to try or the party EVERYONE is going to. I am constantly being greeted by whatever superficial title I do not feel I deserve, and with compliments that aren't earned by my work. I've only worked for myself. You see perfect grades, and lots of friends. You see a girl so admired by her teachers, that she gets away with anything she wants. 

What if I don't know what I want? What if something I want is out of my reach? And whenever I try, it slips, further and further into the abyss that is: the face. The face, the smile, the laugh, the speech, the compliments, the embraces, the satire. It's all so ironic.

I am guilty of assimilation. And there is no way out.