Anyway, will you love me anyway?

Sometimes a thought, it hits you and you go, “Yes, that’s so true! I wonder…!” and you want to give that thought some thought, you want to give it a voice. This is one of those thoughts.

In a world where each of us is an island yet connected unfathomably, in a world where each of us is exhorted to be our best, do our best, live our best, in a world where each of us is trying so goddamned desperately to outdo each other, what are we really like? Who are we? I mean really, who are we? Who am I?

Am I the one who’s a control freak and who likes everything just so? OR
Am I the one who’s low on self-esteem and self-worth and needs therapy everytime to remind her that she’s enough? OR
Am I the one who loses control and unleashes lethal verbiage in order to fight the anger of abandonment? OR
Am I the one who doesn’t know when to say No even if it conflicts with her ideas and needs and wants and desires? Just so she can feel needed? And needed = accepted and accepted # rejected? OR
Am I the one who doesn’t know where her father has been for the last 30 years of her life and has no qualms in admitting that she’s relieved that he’s not in her life? OR
Am I the one who wants to be heard so bad that she thinks raising her voice will do the trick when actually all it does is get other people to move away holding their hands over their ears? OR
Am I the one who wants to dance in the rain with abandon looking up at the sky and licking the rain drops off her lips and being happy to be alive? OR
Am I the one who sits alone in a movie theatre watching Interstellar and wondering what it’d be like to be in a space ship alone and never see another human being ever again for as long as I’m alive? It scares the shit out of me! OR
Am I the one who looks at people she knows and thinks to herself, why are they prettier, brainier, successful-er, smarter, fairer, richer, than me? Why not me? Why? OR
Am I the one who continues to weave the warp and weft of dreams in Dreamland because she believes none of her dreams can ever come true? OR
Am I the one who looks at people in the family she doesn’t like but makes attempts to accommodate them and their flaws even though pretence doesn’t get me anywhere? OR
Am I the one who tries on beautiful outfits knowing fully that she can’t ever afford them or look like she’d like to look and wipes a solitary tear from her eye? OR
Who am I? Really?
Low on: self-belief, self-worth, potential, love for self, lazy, meandering the corridors of my mind mindlessly, alone, wondering about the meaning of life and what all this is for.
High on: nothing really, perhaps hopelessness, powerlessness, despair, dreams, loneliness.

At the end of the day our only excuse is that we’re human. And it’s human to want, to aspire, to desire, to love, to leave, to excel and to fail. And it’s only human to look at ourselves and retch or like Dorian Gray love ourselves to death. I’m flawed. But I’m human. Will you love me anyway?

Love me anyway

Love me anyway

 

 

 

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