26.09.2002 | 11:16 a.m.
Where I basically toot my own horn.

There is so much happening every day and yet not enough to write about in detail. Maybe complacency has taken over; maybe I just can't write anymore. I've been trying to research my presentation on 'Islam and Ethnic Identity' and I've decided that I don't want to research anymore. Maria never said it had to be completely factual. I guess it could be opinion, or personal experience based too. I really wish I didn't have to work with a partner on this,though. I've realised lately that I'm a horrible snot.

Last night, Monica and I did our usual thing. Cooked dinner, sat on the kitchen counter, sang along to Weezer, switched on the T.V only to switch it off, ended up sitting on my bed, talked into the wee hours of the morning. She convinced me - or tried desperately to -that I was attractive, and that I was one of the most intelligent people she knew. I can't fathom that. I was writing in my paper diary yesterday and I realised something very crucial. I never had any doubts about my intelligence until I was 16. That was when I began to think that I wasn't good enough, wasn't smart enough for....well,I'd rather not name him. I knew I wasn't mind-numbingly dumb. I also knew I wasn't exceptionally brilliant. I don't want to suggest for a second that he made me feel that way -he never did. In fact, he adored me and never hesistated in telling me so. I was smitten. I looked up to him like I had never looked up anyone my age before.

But yesterday, I realised that I am at least as intelligent as 'he' is. Insecurities and the fear of unrequited feelings blinded me. I got sucked into a vortex of unprecedented low self-esteem and no one was able to help me out for a long time. But recently, more and more hands are reaching out and even though I won't let them touch me sometimes, they try. They never stop trying and it amazes me. These are people I am in absolute awe of. And these very same people think of me as their equivalent, and apparently, they even admire me. It doesn't make sense to me....

If people as intelligent and wonderful and talented and special and interesting think *I* am worth their time, think *I* am intelligent and wonderful and talented and special and interesting, it must account for something , right? That's what I keep telling myself. I revel in their image of me. There's got to be something inherently unhealthy about that....

deja vu? | jamais vu?