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By Shane Dawson. His passion for art was first sparked in the eighth grade, after visiting a modern art exhibition. He currently is in his first year doing the International Baccalaureate diploma, where he studies fine art. The themes his paintings mainly illustrate are the problems that humans especially women in Western society face; this he shows by doing large-scale portraits with hidden metaphorical messages, often only conveyed through color or form.
It really does. The problems you have as a kid will seem ridiculous when you get older because bigger and worse problems will come along. So yes, it gets worse, but you know what gets better? Your tolerance for bullshit. When I was a kid I remember bad haircuts feeling like the end of the world. The stylist would look me up and down and then ask me what I thought about the Joey Fatone. You know why?
Every man in my family was bald by age thirty, and I only have three more years to go. I have to enjoy this mane while I got it! Shit, at that point I would take a Chris Kirkpatrick and not bitch about it. I also remember how big of a deal it was when someone at school bullied me or called me names. Little did I know then that nowadays the first thing that pops up when you Google my name is Shane Dawson is dead. One reviewer in particular called my movie something only rapists, racists, and sociopaths could love.
Ya, that was rough. But the biggest thing that has happened is that I discovered who I truly am and came out as bisexual. This past year has been a journey of self-discovery and also an attempt at self-love. Just a warning, some of them might offend you and some of them might make you feel sick. And I find that pretty damn comforting.
Though she is an animation major, her passion is illustration and writing. She currently resides in the town of Lincolnton, North Carolina. My oldest brother, Jacob, had a different girlfriend every month when we were growing up, and my other brother, Jerid, had posters of supermodels all over his walls.
She was so powerful. So tough. Like a bull. I was very skilled when it came to a French braid. I remember my brother Jerid sitting me down when I was five years old and asking me a question that would be repeated throughout my childhood and into adulthood.
The only time I had heard that word was on TV when someone was using it as an insult. I ran to my room and locked the door. I curled up into my pillow and tried to forget about what had just happened. Luckily before long I heard the two words that could make me forget about anything unpleasant.
When I was in kindergarten I had my first crush, or should I say, first crushes. I walked into school with my hair slicked back and a Ninja Turtles lunch pail that was metal and super heavy. My mom wanted me to have a heavy lunch pail so I could protect myself with it. With my big, dorky glasses and my forty-year-old bank teller man hair I was just asking to get the shit beaten out of me. I walked into class, and I took a look around.
My eyes stopped on what was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen in my five years of living. She had long blond hair and eyes that were so blue they looked like mirrors facing the sky. Her skin was soft and pale, and her outfit was perfectly color coordinated to keep her from looking even paler. Oh well. I walked up to her and tried to introduce myself, but before I could a boy with spiked, gelled hair and a douchebag face swooped in to steal my thunder.
It was at that moment that my world got more confusing. The boy looked up at me and said, Go away, fat ass, and instead of crying, I just stared at him, completely awestruck.
All the feelings I had for the girl I started having for the boy. I sat down at an open desk and started to panic. I had two crushes: one on a boy and one on a girl.
And I could tell no one. This became a common theme. One night when I was around eleven years old, my brother Jerid and his friends decided to throw a party while my mom was working late. I was a goody-goody and was seconds away from calling my mom and ratting him out until they decided to order Chinese food and I would have sold my fat soul for some orange chicken.
I had no moral code. I was so jealous. Ya, my life was just like a porno. Except less sex and more girl talk. The guy started to take off his clothes, and then the girls followed. I was trying to understand what I was supposed to be looking at.
I wanted to look at the girls, but I also wanted to look at the guy. I was turned on by everything, and I was terrified by that. It was like I was at a Taco Bell drive-thru and everything on the menu looked delicious.
I just wanted one of everything, with extra sauce. I was getting ready to go into high school, and up until then I had never shown any interest in sex. I was always thinking about it, but on the outside I would never talk about my feelings. When anyone asked me who my celebrity crush was I would pick a person that was obviously a joke, like Oprah Winfrey or Rumer Willis. Sorry, Rumer. I was at a family get-together, and the topic of high school came up, and everyone turned their attention to me.
If they do, I can teach you the family trick on how to make your penis look bigger. After a few more uncomfortable questions and a lot of terrible advice, a family member asked me the question that I had been avoiding since I was five years old. It was clear this was something they had all been talking about behind my back. Before I answered, I looked around and just about everyone in the room had a look of fear plastered on his or her face.
My family was very religious, and being gay was seriously not ok. Relief spread across the room. Later that night I went to the kitchen to eat some leftover Hamburger Helper casserole. As I opened the refrigerator door I heard a voice behind me. We always do it in private, as if we are fooling anyone.
How sad. As my eyes started adjusting to the darkness of the kitchen I saw that it was Jerid. That sick fuck. I started crying in the middle of the dark, cold kitchen. He grabbed me and held me while I let it all out. After a few minutes of my crying on his shoulder, he lifted my head up and looked at me with love in his eyes.
It would be years before I was ready to confront my feelings. I went through the next fourteen years holding them in and pretending that I was completely straight.
I would fill the void in my heart with food and other addictions. I had repressed my feelings for guys so far down that they started eating away at me. But as I grew up the world grew up.
Fewer people were saying that gays were doomed to go to hell, and it was becoming more acceptable to be sexually open. After my relationship with Lisa, my girlfriend of three years, ended I felt like I was ready to be honest with myself and confront the feelings that had been buried so deep. A few months after we broke up I asked her if we could talk about an issue I had been having, and she invited me over with open arms.
I broke down in tears and she held me and told me that she would support me no matter what. It was two a. I knew where the conversation was going, and I was finally ready to be honest with him.
Upload Sign In Join. Create a List. Download to App. Length: pages 3 hours. Shane Dawson shared some of his best and worst experiences in I Hate Myselfie, the critically acclaimed book that secured his place as a gifted humorist and keen observer of millennial culture.