“…there is an idea of a Rubyanne Moley,
some kind of abstraction, but there is no real me, only an entity, something illusory, and though I can hide my constant smile and you can shake my hand and feel flesh gripping yours and maybe you can even sense our lifestyles are probably comparable (and they definitely are, I'm a people pleaser): I simply am not there, but rather I'm in my own head 99% of the time.
It is hard for me to make sense on any given level of how to define my being. I myself am not fabricated, but I still am aberration of my creativity and my chaotic spirit. I am a noncontingent human being, and I always have been. Maybe that's why I recently ran to Dallas, in search of new feelings and definitions. My personality is ever-growing and unformed, my compassion runs very deep and is persistent, whether its deserved or not. My nerves, my anger, my hopes for popularity disappeared a long time ago (probably at high school) if they ever did exist. There are no more regrets I hold to myself of my past, as I have absolved myself of guilt in the journey of finding myself. All I have in common with the uncontrollable and the insane, the vicious and the evil, all the mayhem I've endured and my worry toward it, I have now surpassed.
I still, and always have, hold on to a crucial bleak truth: I am my own person, I am creative in an original way, I'm driven, nothing is without of reach if I continue on. Yet I am still chaos. Each model of human behavior must be assumed to have some validity. Is chaos something you are? Or is it something you do?
My chaos is constant and immovable and I do hope for a better world for anyone. In fact, maybe my creative, chaotic brain can change others. I want to use advertising in this sense. I want no one to escape my creativity as I push through the field with innovative ideas and a encouraging frame of mind.
But even after writing this—and I have countless times, I journal almost every day to get some of these thoughts out of the storm of my conscious—and coming face-to-face with these truths, there is no calm. I am still stressed almost everyday and I am still chaotic. I gain no deeper knowledge about myself, no '5 minutes of calm' can be extracted from my telling.
There has been no reason for me to tell you any of this. Maybe I did it for the completion of the grade. Maybe you will look my way and wonder what chaos is on my mind today.
Anyways. This confession has meant nothing….”
―Rubyanne Moley, I'm my own American Psycho
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