Why do I base my self-esteem on whether or not boys like me? Boys are idiots. Boys like Lego and Apps, and quite a few of them don't realise how hilarious I am. I think that that makes them defunct human beings. Basically, unless you find me funny, you're defunct. Whatever.
You know what is funny, in a sick, sad, ironic kind of way? I pretend like I actually like myself. I act arrogant. I'm not really. I mean, I actively dislike myself. I think my only redeeming quality is that I sometimes say things that are sort of amusing. Apart from that, I'm not much of a person. I like drinking cider and sitting around in my underwear eating Subway. I don't have much to offer.
Rory said I should write a book about my life. Since I've moved in with him, I don't think there's been a day that's gone by without me telling him some melodramatic and self-deprecating story about whatever mishap I'd gotten into that day or the previous night. And sometimes it's funny. Sometimes I put words in the right order and they sound funny or cheeky or bizarre. For example, 'Why is he ignoring me? His pee-pee was in my va-jay-jay only hours ago!' That's a bit funny, I guess. In a tragic way.
I've had a pretty shit time of it lately and I've been taking my anger and hurt out on myself. They say there's a healthy way to deal with anger, but I'm not sure that that's true. If there is, I have yet to discover it. If someone hurts me, I'll find a way to blame myself: you can't go around punishing everyone who's ever hurt you, but it's very easy to punish yourself instead. It's easy to be self-destructive. It's hard to accept the past for what it was, and you for who you are. That takes courage, something that I gravely lack. Self-destruction is easy, but it's also very self-indulgent.
People are saying such wonderfully inspiring things to me lately and my eyes keep filling up with tears. Maybe I should start taking all this wonderful advice. But hating myself is easier. It’s horrible, it’s shit, but it’s easy. And ‘be yourself’ is good advice, but it’s far too idealistic. Because no one likes me for being myself. Except that that's not true. That doesn't even make sense. But I like to believe it because it's easier. It’s easier for me to assume that you don’t like me. That way, I won’t feel as shit about myself when you confirm it.
After a week of too much cider and not enough sleep, missed appointments and college work being put on the back-burner, I needed this weekend. Seeing my friends and my mother and talking about things, telling stories and laughing and eating properly and just being. It's been wonderful. And I feel almost rejuvenated. Last week was awful for so many reasons but I'm ready to start again, and not take life so seriously. This week will be all about doing college work and being nice to myself. And I'm looking forward to it.
Image from Flickr.