thinking does not necessitate brilliance

i know this. this. this. constant thinking doesn't mean constant processing or even constant understanding. constant thinking prohibits these things from happening successfully. i.think.all.the.time. not brilliant thoughts, not even mildly intelligent thoughts. just obsessive and uncontrollable thoughts. in seconds i can create a new world to live in that is full of unrealistic situations that make me happy because they all involve me not ever having to tell anyone what i want, and everyone just knowing. i can transpose these new worlds onto the real world instantaneously and be immediately disappointed with the real world and its total inability to read my mind even a little bit. i think through my physics homework... about something... was it physics? i don't know. i think about my family being insane and i think about my dad and my brother thinking they know everything.... literally EVERYTHING about the world... the predictable and boring world. its almost a chore for them to carry out daily life when they are surrounded by the mundane, and everyone is so beneath them, and its just oh.so.fucking.tedious.

for a long time i tried to deny that there was obvious favoritism in my family. and for a long time after that i tried to pretend that it didn't matter and that i was over it and old enough to not care anymore. at first, way first, way back first first first, i thought i was the favorite. it always seemed to fit. i had qualities that other parents i i knew would have valued. i had qualities that would have been favored by other parents. the funny thing was that i was so incredibly wrong about my family for so long that when i finally realized how wrong i had been, i still refused to admit it.. mostly out of shame for being so dedicated to believing my lie.

the truth is that i'm boring. i'm predictable. i'm vanilla. i'm moody and irritable. i follow rules. i study. i get good grades. i cry when i don't. i eat healthy. i don't really like to cook. i enjoy romantic comedies. i appreciate logic. i like reading books on the ny times best sellers list. i like having things. i like chocolate. i am the antithesis of interesting and i guess that probably is pretty hard to favor. yeah i do spend a lot of my time feeling sorry for myself but this is strangely enough, not one of those times. i'm really ok with who i am as a person. BUT truthfully, i will never be like Eric and my parents will never think i'm quite as witty, quite as innovative, quite as creative, or quite as brilliant as my brother. because i do give a fuck about an oxford comma.

i still see value in the world. i appreciate kindness.