All the world's a stage

…and in his time a man plays many parts, to paraphrase the Bard. I don’t tend to find myself agreeing with old Shakespeare very often (apart from the fact that some of his female characters are absolute dreams to play as an actress), but in this case I think he was pretty much on the money. And the reason I've been thinking about this a lot recently stems from two separate conversations that I had with two different people over the past few weeks, which have led to me thinking about the differences in the image we project to others and the way in which we perceive ourselves. Stand by, folks, cos this one could get a little deep…

I've always had a sneaking suspicion that I’m slightly schizophrenic in my personality. I don’t mean that I suffer from schizophrenia, nor do I intend to make light of the illness; after all, I’ve seen first-hand what it can do to someone and I know it’s never a laughing matter, but the fact is that I seem to have a whole heap of different masks and different behaviours depending on who I’m with. I guess Shrek put it best when he said ogres are like onions cos they have a lot of layers; that's me, alright: layer upon layer of weirdness and back-off vibes coupled with layers of niceness and bubbly glee. A lot of this is social context, obviously, because I would never act the way I do with my friends when serving the vicar a cup of tea at one of my grandmother’s church fundraisers; but a big part of it is to do with self-preservation. I live in a state of constant terror that people won't like me.

There, I said it. To a certain extent, it's true - I've always hated the thought that other people don't like me and are only pretending to be my friends (once you've been stabbed in the back a few times, it's less "et tu, Brute?" and more "don't mess with the bitch, bitch"), but recently, in a series of small epiphanies, I've started to realise that, actually, I don't care. I have an incredibly good group of friends (in varying seperate groups of their own) and for some bizarre and bewildering reason they seem to like having me around. I've never once felt that they stuck by me out of pity or charity like I have in the past, and actually find that I'm more myself than I've ever been around them. And I'm starting to find out exactly who 'myself' is - turns out that underneath all the bullshit and bravado, she's actually an okay kinda gal...

Someone told me a few weeks ago that I seem to be comfortable with who I am and that they don't feel brave enough to be like that; when I said that most of it was pure front because I was always shy in new situations, he seemed genuinely surprised. Someone else told me a few days before that (after a second breakup with my then-boyfriend) that I had an amazing attitude towards it after I basically shrugged and said I wasn't too upset because, frankly, if he didn't think I was worth spending time with then I wasn't going to lose any sleep over it: my answer to both of them was that it's been a long time coming. It has, too; I spent a lot of my time in the past pretending to be something I wasn't in the vain hope of fitting in, and it made me miserable. I've lived with the labels 'freak' and 'weird girl' longer than I care to remember; I've had the whispered conversations about me and the snidey comments, the silent treatment and the blatant hostility. My teens were spent careering from one hideous form of self-loathing to another, always seeking approval, always needing to be loved. I desperately wanted to be liked and yet, at the same time, I shied away from opening up to people because I was too scared of being hurt again; too afraid of what love or friendship or anything else might mean.

And then one day I woke up. Like Sleeping Beauty after her hundred year snooze, I snapped out of the misery and the lethargy and decided that if I didn't fit the box, then screw it. It took me a long time; I mean, I'd already gone down the 'weirdo' route at school because of my interest in paganism (oh, how I laughed when the boys asked if I was going to turn them all into toads. Not. Sorry, lads, guess you didn't need my magic for that one, you were already there); because I liked heavy metal and because I read books about serial killers. I'd also had the strange and slightly unsettling experience of feeling like an outsider in the metal scene because I dyed my hair blonde, wore blue jeans and still listened to things that weren't completely incomprehensible rackets like Cannibal Corpse (and god knows that that's nanoseconds of my life I won't get back again). I was an insecure little freak girl, and it was gutwrenching to be torn between wanting to be liked and being absolutely terrified of other people. I lived in my head as much as possible because it felt like the safest place to be, and no one was ever likely to make me feel uncomfortable there. And then one day, only very recently, I might add, I just got it.

So yes, I am a bit of a weirdo. And yes, I don't just have 'issues', I have a full subscription with free gifts and one of those ringbinder things to keep them in. And I do tend to be loud and chatty or pathalogically shy in new situations as a way of covering up my social ineptness and fear of being hated. No, I don't look like a *typical* metalhead. And you don't need to point out my relationship insecurities, my neediness or any other flaws that I have. I know all about them and you know what? I actually kinda like 'em. Besides, I also happen to have the gift of making people feel better by acting like a lunatic; the gift of being a reasonably decent person who cares about her friends; the gift of being able to weave a tale or two from the ether; the gift of dancing to the heartbeat of the earth and not caring whose watching...I'm more than just my insecurities and flaws.

I know I have a helluva long way to go before I'm completely comfortable in my skin, and there are certain monsters and boogeymen from the past that are going to need a serious ass-kicking before my head feels completely sorted, but I've accepted that I'm probably never going to be what passes for 'normal' in this world. And I'm okay with that, I think. The people who made my life a living hell back in the day are long gone from my world; in their place are groups of people that I haven't known very long but who I seem to have clicked with (Jack, you are my evil twin ;p), people that I would willingly fight and die for if the need arises; people who actually seem to have accepted me as I am, flaws and neuroses and all, and are actually ok with that. I have a long way to go in a lot of respects, but the journey will probably be quite exciting. Especially if I dance in the rain and hug a few trees while I'm at it. Sure, I'll get some odd looks from people, but as I don't appear to be a psychotic mass murderer underneath it all, I don't think it will be a problem.

So stick around, kids, cos this one could be an eye-opener...