The love song of J. Alfred Prufrock
The idea of unrequited love in society.
What if you lost the very essence that made you, you?
What if you became the very thing that you strove to be rid of?
What if you became a part of the masses?
Conformity strikes you when you don't realise it, transforming you into a shallow, mindless fool, hoping desperately to fit in, to be included.
Trust me, if it didn't work back in high school, it certainly isn't going to work in real life.
When I left high school, I didn't realise that life was so tough. And that no matter what I did, no matter how extraordinary I was, they would still never notice me for who I was.
Just for who I wasn't.
I should probably explain why I'm like this. I've known this girl since we were babies, clad in our diapers. We've gone through primary school, high school, and though I'm not quite sure when it happened, I began to fall in love with her, my best friend. Unfortunately, she doesn't love me back.
Bummer. And also incredibly clichéd. But I couldn't help it. Honestly.
It's not as though it gets easier as we get older. If anything, it feels like the feelings intensify, as though they take on a mind of their own.
And when you're a teenage boy, that is really not the best thing.
But anyway, I'm getting off track. See my friend, she really wanted to be popular, to be liked by the whole school. She was liked but she didn't think it.
I liked her.
Then she began to change. She started wearing miniskirts. Make-up. She worried about how she looked. She became more and more shallow. Her grades didn't matter to her when she was in public, but I was the person whose shoulder was cried on.
When her first boyfriend dumped her for another girl, I was there with the tissues and to pick up the pieces of her heart as it shattered.
When she was publicly humiliated after a school dance by a different boyfriend, I was the person who consoled her and told her that she was an amazing person for who she was.
But she didn't believe me.
She tried, desperately to fit in, to conform. But she just couldn't breach the social barriers. She became resigned to her fate, defeated and depressed. She was nice to everyone on the outside, but on the inside I could tell that she didn't care anymore.
I tried to show her that it was fine to be different, that she didn't need material goods or the general consensus of the student body to be popular. She was that and more.
But still she didn't believe me. Until it came time to graduate from high school.
She was scared. I could sense it in her. The tension was radiating from her.
I wished that she would be happy. When it came time for everyone to sign yearbooks, people flocked to her. I could see in her eyes what that meant to her.
I wished that I had been the one to bring that light to her sky blue eyes. That I had the guts to say those words to her and for her to say them to me.
I love you.
And yet, I know that the closest thing that I could ever do is to write in her yearbook.
And yet, I'm still scared.
Scared to cross those boundaries that society has imposed on me.
Scared to hope that I could break them. Scared that she'll end up breaking my heart.
Scared that her desire to conform won't allow her to look at me in that way.
So I bet you're wondering if I took the plunge, if I dared to write.
Well, I didn't write my feelings down for her if that's what you wanted to know. But I did tell her one thing.
Conformity is far too emphasised in a teenager's life. And I'm willing to change it.
For her. For me. For all of us.