A short story
I love you said thing to thing two, but thing two just blinked back, what else could they do?
When I first started this blog I wanted it to not only help me, but to help others. I had this fanciful notion that by coming out and saying “hi, I’m a mess” someone might see it and think that it’s not so bad that they’re a bit of a mess too. I wanted to help people but really, I think I’m the one who needs help. I wanted to sit here and say “love yourself”” or “there’s nothing to be ashamed of!” but how could I do that knowing that deep down, I don’t even feel that way? I think this is why I’ve failed to blog for months, because my mind was blocked by my own hypocrisy.
You see, I am the thing. I am both things. Thing two is my reflection. The thing I’m supposed to scream “I love you” “you look nice today” at until thing one starts to believe it.
I’ve been thinking a lot about self-love lately, but really, I should start at the more simple self-like. I don’t know that I’ve ever really liked myself but how ludicrous is that? That the person I spend the time with, I like the least? That whenever that person speaks I want them to shut up, to tell them they sound stupid, they’re not funny SHH. That when that person gets dressed in the morning I out their worst bits, their chubby tummy, their elephant thighs. This isn’t a new revelation to me, I’ve been self aware of my self hatred for as long as I’ve had it and I’ve been trying to change it since then too. But how? Does anyone know? Does anyone have the secret to this? Where do you even start? How do you wake up in the morning and NOT judge the size of your arms? Because I just don’t know, but here I am, resolution number 874 at trying to work it all out.
The truth is, however, as much I hate to say it, I’ve been inspired by a few things I’ve seen lately to REALLY try, whatever REALLY trying means. Thing one is going to shout and shout and shout until thing two gives in and lets her have her way.
And maybe, as I do that, I can start to blog again but I refuse to make another fruitless resolution. My only resolution is to stop making them, because really, when have they ever lasted more than three days? I’m writing again today because I feel like it, but the chances are I might not feel like it for another 4 months, and you know what, I’m going to believe that that’s okay because really, who ever reads my stream of consciousness anyway?
And if you saw that line and thought “Well I’m reading it” then hello to you, I’m sorry you managed to get this far, but since you’re here, why not give me your self-lovin’ tips (as long as they’re not rude ones).