[Day 252] Vannah

I’m not a nerd.

I’m not even a very good girl.

But I am a person.

A person with feelings, hopes, desires.

But I’m also a person with secrets.

Secrets that could break apart the way my family looks at me, as well as some of my friends.

I’m a person with desires.

Desires… far from reach yet not quite unattainable.

I’m a hormonal teenage girl as well.

I crush.

I cry.

I ‘forget’ to do my homework.

I swear.

And I dream at night of how things could be different.

I dream at night, pretending to be someone I will not ever be.

Because that’s the only thing I have to hope for.

That someday I can be Vannah.

(2006)

Vannah was the persona I imagined myself to be. I actually convinced some people that she was real; an old friend from Seattle. I created a Yahoo mail account for her, I gave her face, I gave her characteristics; to me, she really was real. I ended up writing about her an awful lot, and I’m not sure what that says about me. So here is an essay I wrote my freshman year of high school to help you understand my previous insanity.

The new moon is the darkest time of the month, and it can also symbolize the darkest time in someone’s life. But darkness doesn’t always suggest melancholy.

My darkness was under-confidence. Throughout my elementary and middle school life it was like a savage plague, killing me from the inside out. My torment came from the outside primarily, but I took it in and it grew into something much more intense and grotesque.

I had always been a loner, so maybe my new moon started because I wasn’t used to talking to people; my protective ‘shell’ wasn’t fully operational.

Every school has a bully. Some bullies are physical, some are mental, and some are a horrific combination of both. My elementary school’s was mostly mental, but the vicious little demon would dish out punches every once in a while.

From second grade on, he tormented me, telling me how “ugly”, “fat”, and “stupid” I was, among other things, as he kicked mud in my face and threw projectiles. I took every bit of the disdain he had for me and turned it into contempt and disgust for myself. I despised the bully for hurting me, but also despised myself because I thought he was right, thought that I was truly all those hideous things. And so I retreated inside myself, afraid of being me, before I even hit puberty.

I met Vannah subconsciously, like a little voice in my head that provided moral support. She was the voice of reason, persuading me not to listen to the bully. But, her being just a subconscious buzz of slight annoyance, I ignored her, and continued my inward torture.

My first two years of middle school were horrible. If I wasn’t alone, I was with a group of people that I didn’t necessarily like or want to be around, but my craving for company held me in. Every time I began to be myself, something happened and caused me to retreat within once more.

In eighth grade, I started to sit with a group of girls at lunch. I was cautious; they were very outspoken, so I didn’t talk much the first few months.

And then I realized something about these girls. They didn’t have the greatest self-confidence, they weren’t the most popular, and people teased them. But the difference between them and me was that they didn’t care. They took insults and laughed, because they were secure enough in who they were not to take it seriously. And I wished I were more like that. I was still not totally secure, though I was more outgoing and open, but I wasn’t brave enough to completely be myself yet.

I formally met Vannah the summer after eighth grade. She began as just a character on my website; I credited original songs to her, in fear that my voice was not very good. But then people started reacting to the songs, complimenting them. So I began crediting them to myself, more confident. The website’s visitors applauded.

After that I began to see myself more clearly. I was not really a naturally quiet person; I had been forced into silence by my lack of confidence. Likewise, I was not nearly as shy as I had thought, merely afraid of what people would think of me.

It was in my honors comp/lit class where I finally brought Vannah out. The assignment had been to bring in song lyrics to analyze. One girl’s mother had volunteered her to sing her lyrics. The girl’s voice was beautiful. My teacher asked if anyone else wanted to sing theirs’. I had brought some of my own lyrics, and I looked down at them then, undecided. Another girl volunteered. Her voice was beautiful.

Again, my teacher asked for volunteers. Two of my friends looked at me expectantly; they had read my lyrics. Slowly, I raised my hand. I pretended that I didn’t want to, that I was forced, but in my head, Vannah urged me on. I was now in the front center of the room, the center of attention. A part of my mind hurriedly made up excuses to get out of it, another part told me to run, but Vannah only had one thing to say to me.

“Sing.”

And I obeyed. No one spoke a word as the music flowed from my mouth as if they belonged somewhere outside of my head. And then the unthinkable happened; the thing I never expected.

They applauded.

Since then, I have rarely been afraid to do anything. I will no longer be a bird caged from flying; Vannah was my savior!

But, then again, she had absolutely nothing to do with it. I sang those songs on my website. I wrote those stories, those poems. I sang in front of all those people. I was the one they applauded. It was my subconscious mind that created Vannah to help me find myself.

Thank you, Vannah.

(I told you I used to be crazy)