Day 02.5: Something I love about myself
I dislike and disagree with my last post, but I feel that in the spirit of this challenge, I should leave it posted.
It is true that writing what I hate about myself was far easier than even thinking of something I love about myself. And I really do like my strength and self-control, but I think that is a weak topic and I think maybe the bad does outweigh the good. So, I wrote a new blog. It took me awhile to realize what I truly love about myself. I love my sense of self. As I type this it sounds ironic considering I could not even think of something I love about myself, but I do.
I have no idea how I achieved my sense of knowing who I am and what I stand for, but I never remember not feeling this way. Even in middle school when most other kids are going through their awkward phase, trying to find their place, where they fit in, what they stand for, who they are, I knew. And while in some ways it was comforting to have such a strong sense of self, it also made that time in my life harder. I have also been weird, different, and it only served to even further set me apart. It probably didn’t help my case that not only was I aware enough, but also a big enough asshole with an acid tongue to tell the cunty girls in school that they will hit their peak at 17. Sometimes I was wrong; they capped younger. Kids at that age can sense difference.
Strangely, it also made me less self-assured at such a young age. When everyone around you is walking around peacocking, trying to impress each other, trying to look the most confident, trying to make it to the finish line of self-awareness first, it is strange to not have the burning desire to do so also. I thought, ‘Is this what I am supposed to be doing?’ I didn’t understand why more kids were not like me, it seemed so simple, just be you.
This same feeling carried on into high school. I watched as the kids around me grew up, succumbed to peer pressure, made poor decisions, tried to figure themselves out, tried to find their identity outside of what their parents imagined for them. Sure, I struggled with some of the same issues, but in general, I knew who I am. People always write in year books for the person to stay who they are, never change, and I always found that strange. Of course, I will grow up and evolve and change in the sense of maturing, but why would I ever really change, or be someone different than I have always been? It never made sense.
Sometimes my opinions change and evolve. Sometimes I cannot decide what I want to do with my life, but every day I wake up and I am the same person I was the day before, and the day before that, and every day before the last. I can never be anything other than who I am and I will never change that for anything or anyone, if for no other reason than because I simply cannot, no matter how hard I try. I love that about myself. I love that I will never change. I love that I know who I am and that was lucky enough to have always carried that knowledge.
I dislike and disagree with my last post, but I feel that in the spirit of this challenge, I should leave it posted.
It is true that writing what I hate about myself was far easier than even thinking of something I love about myself. And I really do like my strength and self-control, but I think that is a weak topic and I think maybe the bad does outweigh the good. So, I wrote a new blog. It took me awhile to realize what I truly love about myself. I love my sense of self. As I type this it sounds ironic considering I could not even think of something I love about myself, but I do.
I have no idea how I achieved my sense of knowing who I am and what I stand for, but I never remember not feeling this way. Even in middle school when most other kids are going through their awkward phase, trying to find their place, where they fit in, what they stand for, who they are, I knew. And while in some ways it was comforting to have such a strong sense of self, it also made that time in my life harder. I have also been weird, different, and it only served to even further set me apart. It probably didn’t help my case that not only was I aware enough, but also a big enough asshole with an acid tongue to tell the cunty girls in school that they will hit their peak at 17. Sometimes I was wrong; they capped younger. Kids at that age can sense difference.
Strangely, it also made me less self-assured at such a young age. When everyone around you is walking around peacocking, trying to impress each other, trying to look the most confident, trying to make it to the finish line of self-awareness first, it is strange to not have the burning desire to do so also. I thought, ‘Is this what I am supposed to be doing?’ I didn’t understand why more kids were not like me, it seemed so simple, just be you.
This same feeling carried on into high school. I watched as the kids around me grew up, succumbed to peer pressure, made poor decisions, tried to figure themselves out, tried to find their identity outside of what their parents imagined for them. Sure, I struggled with some of the same issues, but in general, I knew who I am. People always write in year books for the person to stay who they are, never change, and I always found that strange. Of course, I will grow up and evolve and change in the sense of maturing, but why would I ever really change, or be someone different than I have always been? It never made sense.
Sometimes my opinions change and evolve. Sometimes I cannot decide what I want to do with my life, but every day I wake up and I am the same person I was the day before, and the day before that, and every day before the last. I can never be anything other than who I am and I will never change that for anything or anyone, if for no other reason than because I simply cannot, no matter how hard I try. I love that about myself. I love that I will never change. I love that I know who I am and that was lucky enough to have always carried that knowledge.
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