Loving & Hating Myself

The idols that I hold dear to me imparted a few wise words today. I wish I could say the weight chipped away and fell off after being reassured. I wish I could tell them my name, my story and my journey.

I think that I get close to self-acceptance but it gets shattered so easily by the most minute occurrences. A bad day, a bad time, even just a slight, is enough to set me off sometimes. I want to claw my way up to the surface so badly, bathe myself in nothing but safe thoughts but it’s extremely hard to stay buoyant. Sometimes I can’t even tell if I’m putting up facades, masks and pretenses just so I could have an easier go of it. Am I really me? Or am I manipulating the situation to put up an image of myself that I’d like people to see?

I can’t love myself if I don’t know if I am myself.

It’s still so much easier to shower someone else with the love that they deserve than putting so much into accepting myself for who I am. After all, I am the monster that I created.

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Loving & Hating Myself

Am I Enough?

Maybe I am. Maybe I am not.

In my own little space, there’s always a sense of inadequacy. The brain can’t help but draw comparisons and project a sense of vulnerability on to others.

Grow a thicker skin? That’s the last thing I want to do. It leaves you like wet cardboard, never listening to criticisms and never growing. Stagnating because you think that you’re the best when you are far from perfection itself. Not a coal, just a speck of dust with no personality and wit.

I think to myself, maybe I am worthy, maybe I am not. If I’m lacking, I will seek to improve based on the expectations around me.

However, I will still be unapologetically me.

Am I Enough?

On why “Nice” and “Sincere” are euphemisms for “Fuck you”

A person once asked why I disliked the words “nice” and “sincere”. Where do I even begin with this? There’s so much to unpack.

There are many ways to describe an encounter, person or experience. Thoughtful, insightful, kind, quiet, shy, eye-opening, heart-wrenching… you get the drift. However, when words such as “nice” or “sincere” are thrown out there, chances are, the person who chose such generic terms just simply doesn’t give a fuck. These words were used because they are sweeping expressions and, therefore, safe by extension. They don’t have that many labels to wax poetry and can’t be bothered to spend their time painting a pretty picture just for the sake of bolstering your ego.

In any case, behind any “nice” or “sincere” action is a desire. A desire to get to know someone better (friendship), a desire to turn it into something more (a romantic relationship)… Our actions are fuelled by our fancies and we act upon them by putting on a friendly countenance, an approachable air or a warm smile. We put on airs to make it seem that our gestures are seen as nice and sincere in order to gain something in return. Are we really that selfless or ardent once there’s nothing to reap?

So, if I ever use them as adjectives – congratulations! I’m just letting you down easy without bruising your fragile ego.

On why “Nice” and “Sincere” are euphemisms for “Fuck you”

My Crippling Self-Worth

Sometimes it starts with a small, passing thought.

“I should have done this instead.”

Sadly, I have seemed to underestimate how much small thoughts can affect me on a day-to-day basis. All these passing notes and views seem to have snowballed into a much bigger issue that I have to address.

Oh, how I wish that there wasn’t a need to dig up the demons.

Sometimes I get so punch-drunk on my ego that I start to think I’m invincible (and what a feeling, what a rush it is) then I start to puncture my own balloon, poke it full of holes and the crippling self-hatred starts to seep in. I deflate, I wander, I ponder and I wait. I wait and I wait and I wait for my rebound. For anything to lift me up again.

I guess I’m always searching for a purpose to ground me but I can’t find one that sticks around long enough for it to affect my thinking in a positive light. Though I may be quick to judge my successes, I’m just as prone to point out all the flaws in them.

I can’t control the ups-and-downs. I’ve put myself in the chair, always waiting to be judged. The self-criticism is all I’ve ever known. The self-criticism that leads to self-destruction. Every time this cycle occurs, I am an emptier me, an individual bluer than I once was.

How does one fix the void in one’s heart.

My Crippling Self-Worth

The ‘Love’ Letters

It’s the dead of the night again and the sentimental me is digging through the memories though there’s nothing physical that I can cling to. I just let my mind replay and relive the moments – the good, the bad, the lukewarm. I let the uncertainty wash over me and wonder if there’s a way to grasp at loose ends and find a place in your life again. Wonder if there is even any space left for me in the corners of your heart. Wonder if you ever felt the same way or if it was just a painful, wishful, one-sided love (who am I kidding, you probably never reciprocated).

So I catalogue my feelings, debate if I should finally learn to let go. But holding on to what-ifs has a certain magic still and oh-so-tempting.

Is it even healthy to hold on for so long? I doubt it but I am clueless. How I can fix things, fix myself most of all? Though I’m a fan of open-ended stories, I’m not quite sure if I enjoy open-ended questions, especially when it comes to my personal life.

In the world of immediate answers and replies, I question if I deserve the radio silence. Even if I were to extend an olive branch, would you have taken it?

I can’t help but mull over every miniscule interaction we had. Was I reading too much into things then?

We’ve gone on different paths then and I’m sure you’ll be less than forthcoming if I try to break the ice. I doubt that you’ll even answer me truthfully.

Should I let sleeping dogs lie? I’m such a jumbled mess. My heart yearns for answers I can’t have like an itch I can’t scratch.

The ‘Love’ Letters

The Casual Difference Between Being Friendly and Being Friends

There’s a definite difference between the two.

Being friendly: The act of saying hi when you pass by. Making small talk out of courtesy.

Usually categorized by blank stares, open gazes, nods and cordial agreements, it’s quite telling when a person is frankly disinterested in the idea of forming a relationship that lasts. In my eyes, there’s no point in forcing meaningless connections when ideals, experiences, lifestyles and interests simply don’t match.

Friends: A shared understanding and a love of being around each other.

If I could use only a word to describe friendship, it’ll most likely be resonance. The compatibility of individuals. The undeniable chemistry. Shared deep understanding, empathy and compassion that binds a duo or multiple folks together. Figurative sparks flying upon meeting. Good independently, even better as a whole.

How many people really know you?

The Casual Difference Between Being Friendly and Being Friends