"noun
1.a person, team, nation, etc., that loses: The visiting team was the loser in the series.
2. Informal.
a. a person who has been convicted of a misdemeanor or, especially, a felony: a two-time loser.
b. a person who has failed at a particular activity: a loser at marriage.
c. someone or something that is marked by consistently or thoroughly bad quality, performance, etc.: Don't bother to see that film, it's a real loser.
3. Slang.
a misfit, especially someone who has never or seldom been successful at a job, personal relationship, etc."
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I am, generally, one of life's losers. I have never been cool. I have never been popular. That has been a standard throughout my entire life and, I doubt, is ever set to change. I have become accustomed to not have, or need, many different friends around me in order to feel validated in some way. I am not much of a social butterfly. I am too shy for all of that. I am so shy I get nervous having to do day to day tasks in front of people I don't know. I am pathetically shy and I must learn to be braver. I never wanted to be overly popular, apart from when I was at secondary school.
I was 16. I had friends. Sort of. I was moving from one group to another. The previous had been truly awful to me and I knew I had no choice but to cut my losses and move on. Moving on was the best option and I later discovered two of the best friends a girl could ever have at that tender age in life. However, before I became engrossed in those two beauties I befriended others to 'fit in'. I wanted to be one of the 'cool' kids. This, of course, was never set to happen. I had black, frizzy hair and was so shy I couldn't even look people in the eye. It wasn't a good start. I had attempted the 'scene/emo/grunge' look briefly and, in due course, would return to it but now I needed to reinvent myself. Start from scratch. I went the opposite direction pretty much. I became, or at least, attempted to be like all the popular girls in school. I straightened my hair, wore more make up, rolled my skirt shorter once I'd left the house, I chatted through lessons- rather than remaining the nerd that I was before and listening intently to the teacher. I 'rebelled'. I thought to myself 'they will like me if I do this. I will be accepted in to the tribe. I might even get a boy to like me.' The boys at our school were lovely, well most, but in my opinion none really took my breath away at the time so I clearly wasn't too fussed, I just wanted to feel like I belonged. Anyway...
After a few weeks I tried my hardest to chat with one group of girls. They had been established friends since year 7 so my attempts at joining in, in year 11, were going to need some serious commitment. I befriended one girl. She irritated me quite a bit. Posh, snobby, very rich and mummy and daddy doted on her. She had a brother who once chased me around their garden and then threw a brick at me. I felt, at the time, that this was okay. He would accept me one day as the 'cool best friend' of this girl. This definitely didn't happen. I rarely went round again. Unless it was late and he was asleep in bed. By becoming her friend I was catapulted in to a world of drinking (of which I had dabbled a fair bit already) and smoking (of which I had always point blank refused on doing). At 16, I found myself in bars in Hastings socialising with her 20 something friends who bought us drinks on a Thursday night as we ventured to the Crypt. Oh what a place that was. My memories of that dark, dirty, seedy club will never be scratched from my memory. Seeing friend's dads leering over the young women and dancing was enough to give me nightmares and in turn, stop going. It was a magical time. I had my fake id and I felt grown up. I felt like I belonged in these situations. I was more confident, although that could have just been the vodka, and I began to love going out with her. It became a regular thing.
We were sat at a bar when I was thrown in to my first 'this will make you cool' scenario. As she delicately took the packet of Marlboro Lights out of her bag I began to panic. First the fags, then the lighter. She looked up at me. 'Want one?' My brain bypassed any thought process it should of had and I immediately said yes. She lit one, passed it to me, then lit her own. I sat at the bar trying to remember what it looked like when people did it in films or on tv. I had to hold it the right way to look cool. The taste was vile. Why would anyone want to breathe this shit in? Seriously, I am sucking on what I imagine the Devils dick to taste like. It was horrible. Needless to say I continued smoking after that. The Devils dick obviously didn't taste too bad after a few more shots. I was hooked after about a week. It was truly the worst and best decision I ever made. Nothing beats a pint of Strongbow and a cigarette on a summer's day in a beer garden. Just saying. (Not that I'd encourage any of you to start smoking but for those of us 'in the know', you understand what I am talking about.)
With that, I became an honorary 'cool' kid. Well, at least with her and her 'cool' friends. I was 'cool'. I smoked. I drank and I didn't give a fuck. Yet, in actual fact, I did give a fuck. I felt awful. I realised I had had to sacrifice something I never wanted to do in order to be 'one of them'. I had gone against everything I ever believed in order to feel accepted. Now, I'm afraid, hindsight is one of life's biggest bastards because it always pops up at the end and goes 'shouldn't have done that should you?' Sounding like a patronizing arsehole who knows everything. It does know everything but it always keeps it a secret until you do the wrong thing. Wonderful. As time has gone by I have realised I needn't sacrifice anything to feel accepted. I shouldn't worry what others think of me and whether I am 'cool' or popular enough. I don't need to be either of those. I just need to be me.
We don't realise, when we are young, how important it is to promote self loving and appreciation. We think that having the right clothes, the hair, the make up, the friends to be most important. We miss part of life's fundamental lessons that 'whoever you are at school is damn sure to change once you leave' and it has. I see the girl I once went out with and she has transformed completely. The people who used to be popular are now no better than me. They are getting on with their lives happily. They are not fighting to be accepted and maintain their reign as 'cool' kids.
We are all cool, for want of a better word. We are all marvelous in our own little ways. Some of us for our passions, some of us for our talents, others because we have amazing hair. The definition of 'cool' isn't what it once was. Being cool isn't such a big deal as you grow up. Rather, being you is far more interesting. Imagine how different school would have been without the struggles of trying to fit in all the time. Without all the bullshit that goes with being a teenager.
Where once being cool used to control me, being passionate, loving, loyal and trustworthy has taken over. I stick to my morals, I am fierce with my dreams and I try to be the best friend and/or girlfriend/missus/woman/bird/wench/partner I can. I focus on my strengths, not my weaknesses. We all should.
Hannah xox
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