Real Life Manic Pixie Dream Girl

OR Just Because You Fit A Stereotype DOES NOT Mean That Is All You Are.

I have just recently come to the conclusion that I am the living embodiment of the Manic Pixie Dream Girl. I am not being self-centered and narcissistic, I am being completely truthful. I am quirky and odd, that is one of the reasons why my boyfriend gravitated towards me. My weirdness gave me attention that I didn't care about, I strive to become my own person in spite of those around me fitting into their predetermined cookie-cutter lives. I dyed my hair and cut it too look like Zooey Deschannel, I wore tights and dresses, I attempted to learn the ukulele. I became a living stereotype.
And I was okay with that. I wanted to embody the women and characters that inspired me; Zooey Deschannel, Sophia Coppola, Jerry Spinelli's Stargirl, Weetzie Bat.
Then my mental demons came out to play and I became a shell of the person I once was. I haven't picked up and instrument in a number of years, and that was a major influence on what made me, me. I used to read several books at once, usually finishing one within a week. Now I can barely focus on reading a couple pages at a time. No one tells you how much a mental illness changes you. I remember being loud and vibrant and dancing with no shoes on, but now I rarely get out of bed for extended amounts of time. I went to get a filling fixed and that was the longest I had been out of my house in a long while. Having to battle both depression and anxiety is a double edged sword. Its wanting desperately to reach out to your friends for help but feeling like you are too much of a bother to them if you contact them first. Its forgetting when the last time you showered, or changed your clothes, or ate something that wasn't junk. Its feeling too exhausted to move when all you did all day was sleep. I didn't mind being a stereotype, at least I was something.


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