“That voice, the one that tells you you’re worthless and stupid and ugly, it goes away right? It’s just like a dumb teenage girl thing, but then it goes away?”
— Bojack Horseman, Season 4, in an exchange between the main character and his daughter.
When you came into this world, kicking and screaming, like every other person who came into the world, your caretaker didn’t know what they were doing. They were still trying to make sense of the world and the uncertainty that came with it.
When you were a little older you learned to formulate words…
When a person’s self-esteem is so low that they never feel smart, talented, or pretty enough, they’re left with two options. They can either trudge through their life wallowing in doubt. Or, they can find something, anything, to grasp onto.
I held onto my work ethic. I’m not naturally intelligent? I’ll study twice as hard. I’m not talented? I will work harder than anyone else.
If I wasn’t good enough, I could make up for it with hard work. In my mind, I thought I’d never be good enough. …
I know that to you, internet stranger, I probably seem like a perfectly composed, robot-like, human. Maybe I even wake up at 5:00:00 am every morning to go through an alphabetically-categorized to-do list. Who knows? You certainly don’t. I could be perfect, head-to-toe.
But I’m not. I know, crazy, right? Imagine my surprise to figure that one out. I’m not perfect! Not only that, but I never will be perfect.
I make clumsy mistakes. I trip over my huge feet. I make little mistakes like saying the wrong thing or forgetting someone’s name. …
Hey you- I saw a half-opened jar of Nutella sitting on the counter today, a butter knife disorderly touching the counter and messing the surface. It reminded me of you- of my favorite day with you. Do you remember that day? It was forever ago. What a mess you made of the apartment, what a fantastic day. Sure, you might’ve made a mess of my hair, clothes, and groceries. I never got the stains out of the walls, either. It’s okay, you know you’re forgiven.
I mean, there I was, sitting on the bed of my cramped room, trying to…
My little brother spends nights pacing around my parents’ kitchen. He tries to hide his frustration, but he doesn’t stop pacing in circles. Something is eating him up inside.
“I wasn’t productive today, I need to stop being so lazy, I have no willpower.” Logically, I should suggest he stops pacing and go check off an item on his to-do list. Staying frustrated at himself is just sinking him deeper into his hole.
But my heart-breaking, empathetic side knows what he is feeling. I know what it’s like to want to be productive but feeling too paralyzed to…
Having a mind is amazing. We experience beauty, highs, and the intensities of love.
Unfortunately, it can also suck. So much. We’re all stuck inside these sticky, sweating, bloody, human bodies. We live at the whims of its chemical reactions. Emotions go up and down. The only real certainty is that no emotion stays the same. That’s okay.
It’s easy to fall into the trap that some emotions are ‘good’ and that some are ‘bad’. Feelings like joy and excitement have a positive connotation, while jealousy or sadness are perceived negatively. …
I used to be so angry. It wasn’t fair! My friends, with normal functioning brains, lived easily. Taking a shower wasn’t a battle. Eating regularly was their normal.
They don’t need to get into a boxing ring with their mind every day.
Sure, my friends had their problems. But their problems were real. How could I not be jealous? When they were sad, they had a reason. If they missed a deadline or made a huge mistake, they had a better excuse than ‘the thought of getting out of bed makes me want to crawl back inside my mother’.
Most people think there are two options when it comes to liking yourself; either accept who you are or change who you are.
But neither of those options worked for me. For what felt like the thousandth day in a row, I’d peel myself out of bed to look in the bathroom mirror. Please let this be the day I start to change. I still hated my reflection, just like every day before that (or maybe my mirror was just dirty, who knows).
I didn’t like who I was, and I wanted to live differently. Even though I knew that…
Before it’s over, I want watermelon juice down my chin
so the dribbles remind me, not just of liberation,
or of sun-soaked bliss,
but the pleasure in embarrassment
Before it ends, I want to hold every hand,
kiss every cheek, because I still can’t
get enough of you — I need to
— I need to remember everything,
because I don’t want to exist
without knowing the warmth
of sun on my face
but then again, without the sun
I won’t be busy with much existing anyway
But I can’t let it be over, not before I’ve finished
because I’m not…