How does one actually spend a Sunday? Some attend Church, others go hang with pals, and…there’s me.

It’s not as if I were excluding myself from the group of all the humans on Earth who live through Sundays.

I just feel like writing…I believe my day has been rather productive. Is not going out productive?

Feeling incredibly happy when watching Gilmore Girls after months (due to my intense dislike towards Jess in season 3) was, I believe, productive. I felt enjoyment…like a child. I was just watching…and I could relate to Rory because I am also experiencing things she is…like approaching graduation. I am young like her! For Touko Laaksonen’s sake, I can’t believe it. I had to force myself to stop watching for today because I had watched almost three episodes while lying on the couch. When I hear the theme song, I feel understood. I am not alone in my growing anxieties. There’s just a show one needs to relate.

What else has been accomplished? Hmm…About fifteen minutes after I awoke, my friend from Finland and I messaged each other about the Finnish ball that was happening in the president’s castle. It’s called Linnan juhlat and it’s a formal gathering to which all these famous Finnish celebrities come shake the president’s hand and then dance and tararaarara….This happens every year on Finland’s Independence Day, I think, which was today. Anyway, I spent my entire morning watching the broadcast of the ball and messaging my friend about which politician wore the best suit. We came to the agreement that Alexander Stubb did. It was very enjoyable to watch, as I loved the formal touch of it all. Every single person was there because of an achievement. People danced…a man sang Olavi Virta…and there was tango…Oh, I liked it!!

Then I made a collage for my friend, in honor of her birthday. Then I turned to Gilmore Girls.

Yesterday I did see The Passion of Joan of Arc. I arrived to the cinema half an hour late, but once I walked in, I saw Jeanne’s desolated close ups. It gave me a sad feeling. She cried so much and my face was frozen. The shots of her face had so much feeling in them…they were sweetly sad. When she’s up there on the stake, I felt very sad. My eyes sort of watered. When they’re preparing her for death, there are these trapeze performers and birds flying about and the mood of the film is cold. Death can be so cold. Jeanne’s face when she is being burned alive…sweet God. The film lagged a little bit…yet I was impressed at how Jeanne showed so much passion for her religion. You can die as quickly as one can sneeze and the world just goes on. After all, what would matter once she died? She left a legacy. I need to re-watch this again. It’s a very powerful movie. Gosh, even the lady who played piano built up so much tension, it was beautiful! I wanted to stand up and tell her she was doing a splendid job. Jeanne’s beliefs were her own…Your beliefs are only your own. No one can take them away from you. Not even if they burn you alive.

After this, I had a nice chat with a worker there about Pola Negri and Fritz Lang, though I blushed a lot. I’m such a shy lady.

The movie had ended and the night was still young, so what was I to do?

My mother had begged me to attend the quinceañera of her friend’s daughter whom I had never met. I ended up going because I had nothing else to do in my night.

It took place in this country club and there were adolescents walking around. Everyone was formally attired and I wearing jeans and a jacket and a scarf.

It’s surprising how many friends a teenage girl can have. There were so many teens on the dance floor.

I spent my fifteenth birthday crying.

Then I just sat there…and my sister became cranky because I didn’t want to dance. I may have Hispanic blood, but I don’t act Latina sassy like Sofia Vergara or fit the stereotype. Is it a sin that I don’t like dancing?

My sister joined my mother on the dance floor…and I was left alone on the table. The loud music was annoying already, but it started to bother me even more. Everybody looked so happy. Everybody was so happy with each other. I didn’t feel happy. I started to feel alarmingly alone. The thoughts started flowing in….Lalala….You’ll never be stable or suitable for gatherings like this. Everyone was so much better than me. I was going to end up a recluse, probably afraid of people until the end of my days. It seems silly why I felt like that. Let remember…I was thinking I was going to not even be able to adapt in college and university because others will appear so comfortable with each other. I guess I didn’t feel accepted. Then the dreaded feeling came: You will never fit in anywhere.

Oh, this is getting old! I am far too sure of this already. It gets to me sometimes.

This thoughts didn’t come at a fast rate until, out of nowhere, tears were coming out of my eyes. I didn’t understand. I was feeling fine. Soon…everybody seemed so perfect and I unstable and worthless. I felt so unimportant. I sat and tears were coming out and I knew everyone was looking at me, though that wasn’t the case.

The more alone I was, the worse I felt and I thought of running to the bathroom to sob. This always happens in concerts or parties, or places with celebrations. All my efforts are pointless, I thought.

Thus, I begged my sister to leave and she had to do it, with an annoyed frown. On our way to the parking lot, my crying intensified. I had to cover my face to not let others see me. In the actual parking lot, I sobbed loudly. I hated how I was…always so sensitive and unstable.

I felt sad over the fact that my twenties will come in a couple of years and I’ve been mostly just myself. By being myself, I feel unhappy. Sometimes I wish I could turn off my personality or my thoughts and come back later.

My adolescence is coming to an end soon and I haven’t done anything stupid or something I might regret. I stayed true to myself. This might be one hell of a story to tell the youths in the next generation.

Then I remembered that…why get sad over other youths? At least I’m not heartbroken every two weeks if the most dashing boy in my school didn’t ask me out. Instead, I fear more for my future.

Yesterday I became aware that my anxiety is severe and not letting me enjoy my young years. I might (I can’t believe this) turn to medication again.

Here’s to being young!

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