Of those unloved ones

People expect others in their life to accept them for what they actually are – skin, bone, soul, thought. It is after all a packaged deal and if you want an exchange, baby, that’s hurting. No one wants to change and no one wants to force change on anyone else either. It is after all about the genuine, unaltered and unadulterated experience. Which makes me wonder, if we expect other human being to accept ourselves for who we are, why are we that much more afraid of accepting ourselves – skin, bone, soul, thought?

One look at an advertisement endorsing magic products with unrealistic results or a person up in big lights with man-made beauty, that’s enough for us to brand ourselves with defects. Our ideas are not good enough for us. We are not smart enough for ourselves. We find so many faults with ourselves, we cloud our merits. I remember, one day I sat down and just wrote everything that is wrong with me and after a while I deduced I am a horrible human being. I could not come up with one good thing I could say about myself. Each and every day, we are rejecting ourselves.

It would be a realist thing to look at a spade and call it a spade, and maybe we all are realists here – but reality was giving me an internal haemorrhage. After the aforementioned experiment I tried, I secluded myself in a rather grimy place, some days against my own wishes. Masochism was fun for so long, the pleasure soon started to wane and all that was left was the pain – hollow and empty. Not the best of state to be in, but as Gotye says, “You can get addicted to a certain kind of sadness”. But resigning when you are young and beautiful is not the most fabulous thing to do. At all.

Doing the fabulous thing here would be examining the scars and the bruises. Trying to remember the story behind it, and realise you are a book. Dog eared, cracked at the bind, yellowing, warm things filled with dreams and stories to tell. If you think you are not as good as the person you are comparing yourselves with, maybe you don’t have to be. Maybe it’s just about being as good as you can get. Fitting in your shoes and walking all the miles. And if you have hard days and they seem to just schedule them all around your calendar, don’t curse your luck – that’s her job, to go bad at times. 5 years down the line, it would either be what changed your life or be too trivial to remember

We are not perfect, perfection is a concept. We are the real deal – dried skin, broken bones, tainted souls and perverted thoughts. We are all over the place, we are infinite.

Happy Valentine’s Day to you.


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