The year was nineteen ninety seven, on the fifth of February. It was a cold dark night, at least that's what I have been told, when my troubles first began, also known as the day I was born. I arrived kicking and screaming armed with an extra set of fingers, lest it be said there was a moment in my life when I was ordinary. I was an unplanned pregnancy, born to two young individuals, after a failed abortion attempt. Those said individuals ( whose identity I choose not to disclose as the only thing they ever gave me was trauma) wanted nothing to do with each other. I grew up between said two waring partners in thier thinly held attempt at cooparenting. The only time they agreed on anything, were on life scaring decisions they made on my behalf under the guise of knowing what's best. Needless to say, it was hell being me. I was always left wondering if my life was even worth living. I know how that sounds but hear me out first, I am not suicidal. If I am being honest I am way too self obsessed to off myself and too self critical to give myself a way out. Do I enjoy living? Absolutely not yet, here I am anyway.
Allow me to introduce myself properly. My name is Melancholy Bright. That is my actual name. The woman that birthed me must have been bitter about my existence to the very end. Most people urge me to change it, but I had long decided against it. I will wear the face I was born with and carry the name I was branded with until I make something of myself. That way I can rub it in their ugly faces ( my sperm donor and uterine landlord) that I made inspite of them.
Do I have multitude of undiagnosed and diagnosed mental issues? Yes.
Do i over analyse every single mistake I have ever made and overthink? Yes.
Did being fat shamed as a kid kill whatever budding self esteem that might have been in me and even after losing all that weight still traumatize me? Yes.
Despite having no self esteem am I narcissist who believes she has life all figured out despite evidence to the contrary? Yes.
Am I always engrossed in my make believe universes living my best possible lives in a fantasy world while ignoring reality and all its garbage? Yes.
Do i make the goldfish's five second memory sound impressive in comparison to mine? Yes.
Does knowing all my flaws mean I am actively working towards making amends and manifesting self growth by overcoming said flaws? No.
I am a paranoid, introvert with the social skills of a rattlesnake. I have been known to produce a rattling hissing sound at people who try to make small talk with me. I have commitment issues and cannot even manage a healthy relationship with myself not to mention one with someone else. Don't get me wrong I have been in several entanglements or situationships as my people like to call it. By my people, I mean my fellow post millennials who are too old be called Gen Z and much like my life are enigmas who would have preferred to live in another Galaxy. I don't like to take all the credit for my failed situationships, I mean men were involved so there's that.
Last but not least I am a bisexual. I have only ever dated men and hated it but there's little I can to remedy the situation. I turn into a fumbling Phoebe when faced with women. Do I wish to pursue a relationship with any woman? I mean its women so that's definitely yes. I want to ask a woman out, take her on dates, buy her nice things, travel the world with her and make her my queen. I, however, live in Kenya a third world country which in itself is a disadvantage.
Homophobia is a staple here, homosexuality is a punishable offense and the worst part is the rate of unemployment. Random, I know, but the reality is, unless you have a winning personality and make it big on tiktok, Instagram or any other social media platform it's only a matter of time before you play sheep.By sheep i mean, cook, clean, birth, marry and retire, in that order, if you are lucky. Some people meet roadblocks like poverty, domestic violence, childlessness and the worst one, overbearing in laws. Notice the glaring absence of a successful career, because I sure as hell did not. My reality (which is why a opt for maladaptive daydreaming) as black bisexual African woman is that no matter how big I dream unless I can cook, clean and get a husband and kids I will always be a failure. The other alternative is to be so wildly successful that anything anyone else says is considered garbage or hate speech.
That's what I am aiming for my dream is to be a billionaire. The how is not as important as the when. I need to be rich before I reach thirty. Laughable I know. I laugh louder at the idea these days because somehow, someway, I am now twenty. I dont even know how I got here. My life up until has been a blur of a distressingly dissapointing reality and amazingly enchanting fantasies.
Did I also tell you I trauma dump. But I'll save that for some other time. Don't be so surprised, that was a basic introduction. I only told you the light parts, the darkness requires a bit more preparation. I promise, before the book ends you will be adequately confused, uncomfortable and maybe a bit inspired to be better than me. The bar on the latter is pretty low so anyone can do it. There you have it, the origin story of an Aquarius.
However if anyone asks, I am alien princess from a planet outside of the milky way galaxy. I was materialised on this planet because of it's small size and utter inferiority in the grand scale of things making it the best hiding place.