Day Five || 30days30minutes

So last night…

(isn’t that the start of all great stories?)

I felt pretty antsy and reckless so when my friend asked if I wanted to go to a Club in West hollywood for the artist NAS birthday and it was free I didn’t even hesitate when I said Yeah! (you know, as if this was just something I usually signed myself up for every Monday night--casual) It wasn’t until I was at home and packing an overnight bag to stay with her after the evening festivities that I instantly regretted it  that happens -- a lot) but there was no backing out now and my roommates weren’t home to talk me out of it so YOLO- here it goes.

I get to her apartment and we catch up on life while getting dress and then head out to meet the promoter and then head to the club.

I should note...if you’re feeling just any ounce of judgement right now, I suggest you just close out this tab and read something else-- judge free zone here okay?! k. great.

We meet the promoter and then after disappearing for like 5 minutes, he leads what is now three of my friends and myself to the long line of people trying to get in. Just a disclaimer, not that I owe anyone this but I’m saying it because I want to- this is only my second encounter with a club experience which I established my freshman year was not my forte and yet alas, here we are again and was extremely indifferent going into it. Anyway, once we’re waiting in line the promoter gets a group of other people i guess he recruited into the club and another promoter gets his “people” into the venue and then it’s just myself and my three friends chillin behind the velvet ropes waiting to get in. By this time I was EXTREMELY indifferent whether or not we got in, I just really wanted pancakes and the psychology of this whole club experience/ people trying to get in was really interesting to me. Then paparazzi and celebrities started showing up and let’s just be real, IT WAS THE WEIRDEST EXPERIENCE EVER.

That’s basically what I’m trying to say in all of this.

It wasn’t fun, the hype that it’s made out to be is not hype at all. So ignore the instagram or the snap chats with how “lavish” or “fun” it looks because well, it’s not. (At least not to me, I understand that the idea of human perspective is extremely varying so this is all bias -obviously). There was just chaos of the worst kind happening, smoke everywhere (UHM HI, I’m asthmatic and haven’t had an inhaler in months because I can’t figure out kaiser online and adulting is hard) and people EVERYWHERE I mean not like a crowded coffee shop NAH- like BODIES, nasty hot bodies everywhere. At one point,  I was pushed LITERALLY to the side by a guy who wanted to talk to my friend and I mean duh she’s a babe but also I just kept thinking, I don’t know why you’re trying to talk to her dude when YOU CAN’T HEAR ANYTHING IN HERE. 

End rant.

in this place, in this moment, people decided if you were worth anything.

The bouncers decided if you were “worthy” of coming into that lovely venue and worth a second glance.

The promoters decided if you were “good enough” to sit at their table -- which apparently we were not.

Guys decided if you were worth talking to or in my case, pushed aside (LOL still actually really funny to me).

Girls decided if you were competition or not even worth worrying about.

It was a strange world, one where I analyzed the mess out of all of it per usual and everyone in it.

The biggest thing I gathered?

My goodness we just want to be seen. We want someone to establish our importance because otherwise how do we know it even existed.

I didn’t even pick up on the fact that our night unraveled the way it did probably because we were fully clothed and not even a little phased by all the “hype” happening around us - SORRY NOT SORRY. It wasn’t until after we were back to her apartment after pancakes with a girl I’ve known and watch grow since she was a babe in high school (the redeeming factor in all this) that I even realized it was because we didn’t fit. We weren’t seen as being “it”, we didn’t bat our eyes or try to swoon someone in order to get in -- we stood out and then literally got told you can't sit with us. 

I have always hated being different. Being taller or thicker or just overall bigger than my friends. Being the only Christian or the really passionate one, I hated that I couldn't just do what as the “norm” and feel like i belonged there. Most of us don’t belong there. Not just in a club either, “there” as in any place where you can’t be fully yourself, you don’t belong there. You won't thrive there, you won't grow there you won't be seen or appreciated there. No one, NO ONE can tell you if you’re worth or not.

No one can strip something from you that wasn’t theirs to have.

Confession,

I got to my friends apartment, looked at myself in the mirror and kind of giggled because well honestly I thought,

“I look pretty darn good tonight and it’s a shame no one else seemed to notice that.”

Maybe it’s shallow, maybe it’s cliche whatever. I think we need more of those moments because maybe we would learn how to truly love ourselves better because it is in those moments that we realize our identity and instead of running from it or letting people take it from us, we hold it closer than we’ve ever done before and thank God for every part of it.

UncategorizedArielle Estoria