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I hate it when I feel this way. Nothing is right. I want to shrink and disappear, because everything about me is wrong. Which of course is absolute nonsense. But here it comes again. I’m ugly. Right, where did that one come from? I’m stupid. Nice. This must have been hiding in my brain for how many years now? I’m weak. Yeah, what else? Wrong question, it started an avalanche – here we go…

I’m fat, my hips are too wide, I have a huge butt, my lips are too thick, my eyes are too small, my forehead is too high, my brain must be the size of an idiot’s fist, I don’t get the simplest riddles, I forget things people have said 5 minutes ago, I struggle with emotions about nothing in particular, just because I am a drama queen, need to exercise more because biking back and forth to work is not enough and I will turn into a blob soon, I… 

Miracle – the spitting session of insecurities slowed down. Wow, I can’t believe it did. I thought there is so much more in my head. That’s right – it is all in my head, and all of it is not real, not even for a minute. But don’t we love holding on to our insecurities? I know I do – getting some sick comfort out of playing a victim and asking others to fill in my holes. How convenient, much better than to strip naked in front of everybody, on the stage, and letting them see all of my faults, and be ok with it. Because there are none. Whatever I see as a fault, others don’t comprehend and can’t see until I point it out. So who creates a problem here? Me. Who is making my life miserable? Me again. Why is it that I hate myself so much? Haven’t learned how to love myself yet, not enough practice. So I try and milk others – for love. I’m scared to death to do it, but I need it, and when I get it, I feel guilty and I want to disappear – the lovely circle starts over again. I dive into my self-hate deeper, picking out the particulars now, like my two front teeth are not perfectly straight and in some pictures they look crooked if the light hits them wrong – I need to finally get myself some braces. My writing sucks and I have to write more and read more to write better and write even more to write even better and never repeat words like I just did and never use words like “like” and “just” and always use commas and… Oh, there is no end in sight. I thought I glimpsed it. 

Why did my self-esteem evaporate today, and how is it I thought I could be stable? No, I actually did feel stable, I remember. It’s a memory now, if at all. I can’t even recollect how I felt. I only recall the fact that I did. One day. It was. Now it’s not. It’s all walled up. I’m all walled up. No matter how many people tell me I’m smart, I’m beautiful, I’m strong – I don’t believe it. I make their job so very hard that they will probably give up on me and walk away, and I will justify it with – well, I knew all along they were lying, because really I am stupid, ugly and weak. Ugh. Sometimes I want my brain cooked, or pickled, to simplify its thinking process to an atom at a time – primitive, straight-forward, calm. Like the one of a duck – to dip my head into water for food, and to get out when full, to swim eagerly for the offering of a piece of bread, but to not be disappointed with an empty hand instead. To ruffle my feathers when cold, to fly for the purpose of transportation only, to hide when chased. How glorious would life be if based on instinct only? But no, I can’t. I have all these intricate strategies developing in my head, spat out as complicated sentences, sophisticated behavior and admirable intuition. Tongue-tied. Too many words. None make me feel better. What will? Touch. Love. Music. I hope. If not, then sleep – if I can make myself get any.

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