05 November 2005
Magic rainbows weaved of sugar.
It's back, the nagging feeling of inferiority and insecurity.
It happens when I am reminded that I am not good enough for anyone else to love. When I see a picture of the two of them together, when I see him with that other girl, when hear about his next date. It doesn't matter who, it doesn't even matter if I have feelings for the person, all that matters is that I am not involved. I think back to when I was in school, and all the boys that I realize probably liked me, but never did anything about it. I think of the boy at my last job, and it seems pretty clear that he felt, at least slightly, like I did. Why, though, have I been so alone? I cannot even say for sure that any one person has ever loved me. I thought I knew, but I do not want to be so pretentious as to claim so. It does not matter what they say. They may be my best friend, but I lost my trust in their word long ago.
I am feeling again like I am just that chick who's pretty cool at work. I am the laid-back, cool manager who everyone likes to work with because things get done but it's still fun, I think. I have made one friend since I moved to this town, who I know I would still hang out with if we did not work together. Pooh.
It is not an unjustified fear, is it? The fear of being unloved. It can mean so many things. Not enough in so many ways. Not smart enough, pretty enough, tall, short, dark, or loud enough. Not funny, gentle, shy, kind, loose, cute, or young enough, and not trendy, thin, fat, polite, resonsible, or assertive enough. It's as though I'm everything I shouldn't be while being everything I want to be. I think I am a great person, I think I am interesting, smart, and funny, and I think that I am beautiful in many different ways. It is depressing that no one else seems to think so.
Only one voice ever told me I was wonderful that I really, truly believed, and that voice has not told me so in a long, long time, and more than likely never will.
Most days I am content with just being myself, standing alone in the world. Somedays, though, I cannot help but long for the touch of another human, for that feeling in my gut when I know that I mean the world to someone who means the world to me.
Then I think how that could never happen again, and I realize it does not really matter. I will always have myself.
It happens when I am reminded that I am not good enough for anyone else to love. When I see a picture of the two of them together, when I see him with that other girl, when hear about his next date. It doesn't matter who, it doesn't even matter if I have feelings for the person, all that matters is that I am not involved. I think back to when I was in school, and all the boys that I realize probably liked me, but never did anything about it. I think of the boy at my last job, and it seems pretty clear that he felt, at least slightly, like I did. Why, though, have I been so alone? I cannot even say for sure that any one person has ever loved me. I thought I knew, but I do not want to be so pretentious as to claim so. It does not matter what they say. They may be my best friend, but I lost my trust in their word long ago.
I am feeling again like I am just that chick who's pretty cool at work. I am the laid-back, cool manager who everyone likes to work with because things get done but it's still fun, I think. I have made one friend since I moved to this town, who I know I would still hang out with if we did not work together. Pooh.
It is not an unjustified fear, is it? The fear of being unloved. It can mean so many things. Not enough in so many ways. Not smart enough, pretty enough, tall, short, dark, or loud enough. Not funny, gentle, shy, kind, loose, cute, or young enough, and not trendy, thin, fat, polite, resonsible, or assertive enough. It's as though I'm everything I shouldn't be while being everything I want to be. I think I am a great person, I think I am interesting, smart, and funny, and I think that I am beautiful in many different ways. It is depressing that no one else seems to think so.
Only one voice ever told me I was wonderful that I really, truly believed, and that voice has not told me so in a long, long time, and more than likely never will.
Most days I am content with just being myself, standing alone in the world. Somedays, though, I cannot help but long for the touch of another human, for that feeling in my gut when I know that I mean the world to someone who means the world to me.
Then I think how that could never happen again, and I realize it does not really matter. I will always have myself.
// posted by Liz @ 01:35 
