Vow of Obscurity

I've spent most of my life being sad. I wanted to be strong, and somehow, strength came to mean anger for me. So I tried to be angry instead of depressed. And it's worked a little too well. I can feel myself solidifying into an angry, bitter, cruel person.

When I was in middle school, I wrote, "Insecurity is my obscurity." The older I get, the more the opposite seems true as well: Obscurity is my insecurity. I'm scared to death of being overlooked. I also wrote,

I don't like the corner
I don't like the stairs
When on the sides
I'm in despair

The only place
That won't cause tension
Is in the center
Of attention

I was trained to be an actress from a very young age. I'm more comfortable on a stage than anywhere else. Some call me a drama queen, but I'd go so far as to say I'm an attention whore. I long for fame. I don't even need world fame, just a little bit of internet fame would do. Every hobby I've had has been geared toward this. And I've spent my life searching for the satisfaction I thought I would get from being known by people.

It's made me an awkward person. I'm not very pretty, so I resorted to being funny. I'm not very clever, so I had to use myself as my material. I became a clown for the sake of being noticed. I don't know how to shut up and blend into the background. All I can do is act silly and hyper, hoping for eyes on me, even if they're glaring.

Some people take vows of poverty. I think I need to take a vow of obscurity: to swear to not be famous for anything, to live a quiet life doing the greatest good I can with the least amount of recognition possible. To not let my left hand know what my right hand is doing. I think something like that would do me a world of good.