My biggest fear in life is to hate myself.
My take on how I go through life is this: I am not alone, I have me. I will always have me. Consequently, I can never get away from me. If I like me, then life will be pretty cool because I will be spending my forever with someone I like. If I don’t like me, then life will suck no matter what.
Over the years, I’ve worked really hard to become someone I would like. I studied more, exercised more, socialized more, dressed myself up more – it’s like adding layers of self-confidence to myself. On my good days, I take a look in the mirror and I tell myself:
You’re lovely. You’re smart. You’re funny. You are a great person. I like who I am.
On my bad days, I don’t look in the mirror because I don’t like who I see looking back at me.
When do I hate myself?
I hate myself over a lot of little things – when I make a mistake, when I yell at people who care about me – but most of all, I hate myself when I hate myself.
Does that make sense? I hate it when I don’t like me. I hate it when I feel bad about myself. I hate it when my self-loathing overpowers all the love I receive from others. I hate it when I am unhappy with myself and I feel helplessness on top of it all – as if I’m wasting my own time trying to like me.
It’s such an irrational train of thought. Once I hop onto the self-loathing train, it’s so hard to get off. I tell myself the same things I say on a good day: You are a bunch of lovely, smart, funny, great things mixed together at full brightness. I like who I am. It just feels like a bunch of lies.
There’s no real conclusion to this train-wreck of a post. When I have these bad days, I just go to bed. I tell myself that maybe tomorrow I’ll look in the mirror and it’ll be a good day. Often times, it is, and onward my life goes.
Other days, I write shit like this.