I have always required a medium to express myself. My voice, unlike for many others, doesn’t seem to be enough.
My need to express
With my need to not be
Seen or heard
Hence this blog. It has enabled me to express myself, as candidly as possible. Without letting the world know who I am. I guess I am just afraid.
Afraid of myself. It is a curious thing.
I know myself the most. I hate myself the most.
And I cannot even pin point what I disapprove off.
It seems as if the whole of me doesn’t approve of the whole of me.
And this realisation scares me even more.
I have by a mixture of circumstance and choice, hardwired myself into hating myself. So much so, that the words of others which once bore wells into my heart, are now nothing but humourous japes. For I have called myself all kinds of things that people would never dare to do so.
I have begun to belive that I am the monster they believed I was.
I know this thinking is wrong. I know this is harmful. And that I am myself choking my self esteem. But after having built my entire identity around this concept it is hard to let go.
I have heard people say how one should learn to love themselves, flaws and all. But how can I love something I have hated all my life.
How do I mend what I have spent years breaking apart. Bit by bit.