Realization of Self
I have grown to realize that while self worth is only something that you can give to yourself─ something that I have worked for years to accomplish─ it is only a value you place on yourself. When you become self-aware it is a form of maturity to realize that you are not needed. It can sting, but it is a truth to accept.
Delusion is there for others to find purpose and feel as if they belong. I have been aware that I don’t belong. Not one of those dumb ‘not of this world’ religious shite but that I shouldn’t be here.
In my younger years I had bought into feeling worthy and that I had purpose. Really it is something most people need to exist, without sense or purpose it becomes exceedingly difficult to rationalize existing.
I find bitterness in my heart from time to time toward my parents for having me. My mother had me young (17) and while there were occasionally good times, it was no secret between us that I was a burden and strain on her life. If I’m being blunt, my mother flat out felt I had ruined it.
While writing about it can be a form of catharsis, this too is me being selfish and vain to place my thoughts online. There is no one, or nothing that will need me with passing time. You really start to realize it more and more with age.
While coming to the realization of self worth and actual people’s want or desire to have me near─ you begin to understand that there is a freedom in letting go of worrying about them not wanting you. While it hurts on a level beyond words at times, it has also brought me to a sense of peace knowing that my absence will go unnoticed.
Of course it is my desire to hear others say they want me in their life and need me is a fantasy that more than likely exists because of my upbringing. (after all, I am only human) It is a deep seated and selfish expectation of others to validate my existence.
Often there are moments I can see how little I know. My curiosities are insatiable and often quite annoying to others. I really am a stupid creature. Curiosity does not a smart man make. (ha!) I could read and learn my entire life and still know nothing. I get so frustrated with myself because my family’s words have come true because of my inability to accomplish anything. I have not made a change or impact. I have helped no one─ not even myself. I have failed myself and others.
With every waking moment and breath I draw, I continue to place a burden on others. I think at times ‘a waste of space’ accurately describes me.
My loved ones shouldn’t have that sort of problem in their life. Especially on days that I feel sorry to exist─ even I hate my demeanor on these days.
Don’t Put The Pussy On a Pedestal
In my twenties I remember thinking that many others found me attractive. At the same time, I believed that I wasn’t. By putting yourself down to others, even if you believe it, it is a way to fish for compliments. It is something I cringe thinking about and extremely pathetic of me.
I enjoy hearing it but realize that it is silly. I suppose it is something that doesn’t come often as you age and unlike my past self, I now immediately acknowledge that people are just friendly. It’s a stupid arrogance of youth that I believed I was sexy and so many people found me attractive.
While this may sound suspiciously like fishing, it’s to get a point across to myself and others. I realize that I am not revolting, I have eyes and a grip on reality. A ‘scale’ of beauty isn’t the deciding factor for those that we find attractive. There are many qualifiers to it, it isn’t a magic formula that makes everyone desirable. Sure, we can all agree on conventional beauty, and beauty standards but everyone has that sort of Je ne sais quoi that makes them who we fall for.
My past self was cringeworthy.
I had not heard the phrase ‘don’t put the pussy on a pedestal’ until my late twenties. It basically means, don’t idealize women and treat them different or special because they have lady bits. I believe that men tried to pursue me in my younger years because of my quiet and aloof nature. I wasn’t looking for a relationship, I didn’t want it.
My Body Is Not A Wonderland
When I look at myself in a well lit room in a full length mirror, it is a sobering and shocking discovery. It has been scarred with years of abuse from me being overweight and then losing a ton of weight. My skin hangs and I can see it bunch and wrinkle while it droops down like a sacks of curdled milk. I want to cry seeing my stomach hang sickeningly as I plank or do pushups. My breasts are small, scarred and droop. My face is plain, my eyes are a murky greenish brown like olives. There is nothing of particular interest in my physique and my hips are a bit too wide. My hair spills down in coarse waves, it is a mousy sort of brown. My skin is sallow, splotched with moles and freckles. Cellulite ripples down the backs of my legs─ legs covered in broken veins, bruises, and scars. My chest is beginning to spot and become less firm like my neck. All my wrinkles build as the years pass.
This is me, it is important to know that.
Don’t put the pussy on a pedestal.