coming home to absolutely nothing is a surreal experience...
it's an experience that knocks the wind out of you every single time....
it's an experience you just don't get used to....
trust me. after six years of returning to nought, it still leaves me prying for air, and longing for something.
but that something is always obscured by the single fact that self loathing is an addiction. once you cross the line...once you assign fault to yourself in a single situation...it becomes a habit...and old habits die hard...especially ones that always give you an answer, someone to blame, some place to put fault, and a reason why...
even if all paths lead to you...and inveigle you as the enemy.
and that's where i am now. that's the position in time i find myself at....at this very moment....and i just don't see what all the fuss is about. after a three hour conversation about how i'm not always the one worth leaving, how i'm a great person, how i'm a catch and worthwhile, and *they* were idiots for giving up and discarding a "truly good hearted and awesome person which is so rare to find"...i find myself still at the same conclusion:
why the fuck do i need to love myself? what have i done that's so fucking incredible that i warrant my own self-respect?
...and don't give me that bullshit saying that "no one will love you unless you love yourself"...because you know what? i don't see how the two fucking correlate at all. it's not my choice if someone likes me, and it's certainly not my choice if someone loves me.....regardless of how much self-love, self-like, and self-respect i have...*you* make the choice of whether *you* like me or not..and it honestly has nothing to do with how i think of myself because, lets face it...how many of our friends/acquaintances/loved ones do *you* truly know? and even if *you* do know them insanely well..do you know every single thought they have?
i think not.
and it's not like i introduce myself as elle-the-self-depricating-and-loathing-queen. most people who know me think i'm a goofball who is never serious, never gets offended, never takes anything to heart, and is usually not bothered by anything.
frankly, i like it that way...
95% of the time i am that way...and depth of character is overrated..especially when trustworthy/worthwhile people are so hard to come-by.
people, in general, are shit...so why add to them my own detritus?
so fine. i keep how i feel about most things a secret....with the occasional slip up and almost immediate recovery and brush off........what is so wrong with that?
why do i have to cherish myself? love myself? oogle and fawn and pat myself on the back for every expected task i complete or mediocre accomplishment i've had thus far? isn't it better to consantly strive to be better? to be more? to go above and beyond the expected and mediocre? to internalize the past, even if your version points the finger at you, alone, and adjust accordingly?
i'm rather proud of the fact i can admit that i don't like who i am....
i'm rather proud of the fact that i can admit that i've done absolutely nothing with my life that warrants approval from myself or anyone around me...because everything i've done has been expected in one way or another....
why?
because i at least have the balls to admit it to myself and not place myself on an unwarranted pedastal like so many people do.....
fuck loving yourself.
there's so much more you can be than what you are now....
why settle?
i don't know how long i can hold my heart in two
