When you’re feeling insecure, stop and consider the possibility that you’re giving people too much credit. That you’re placing them in a spot to judge you when they have no qualifications to do so. There is no one better than you. There are just people. People that think they’re the most interesting. People that are wrong. Just as wrong as you. Who think they have the answers, people you want to believe have the answers, but we’re all insecure, and we’re all pretending to know what’s best, and we’re only taking our best guess. Look how smart I am. Every person on this planet is more intelligent than I, and is it any good? Does it really matter?
Don’t be intimidated by bosses, by CEOs or celebrities. They’re people too. People just as wrong as you and maybe more so. Their words have weight because we decided they do not because they hold some sort of objective truth. They carry baggage and probably more of an exaggerated sense of self-importance. So get over them and get over yourself, and keep walking. Have some more confidence because you exist. And that’s a big deal. You exist. And maybe that’s good enough. Speak your truth.
Don’t doubt yourself if your opinion falls on the opposite side of the majority, every innovator’s has. And the masses are misguided — influened by status and greed and positive opinions. If someone laughs at you, they’re the stupid one. Misguided enough to think they know better when they’re cutting themselves to fit perfectly inside the edges of a broken mold – a broken world. And there is no perfect fit or shape. We’re slaughtering other people and animals and spending billions of dollars a year on anti-depressants, distractions, pleasure, and heart attacks. And we’re wrong. And it’s all fucked up.
So exist as you. And consider the possibility that you’re enough.
The world is a merry-go-round, and she’s riding it with her eyes closed, arms back, and laughing. Her heart is sunshine, pumping warmth into her veins, and her eyes are moons of possibility. She knows it’s not real. She knows she should stop, but right now it’s life. And right now, it feels good. Spinning. Like hope. Like a movie. Loneliness masked by inebriation, and all anyone see with a glance is significance.
The ride jolts, slows a little, she stumbles. Her feet find the ground, and her mind tries to grasp something. Her eyes open and watch the people around her – spinning and laughing. pretending. Hungry eyes, sloppy attempts to connect, rejection. Look at me, there is no pain, look at me, I’m attractive, significant. Distraction. Look how important we can be. We matter so much. They talk about this or that but mostly themselves and they laugh and listen. or try to. They try, too. Inflated chests, tossed hair. They hold onto each other and move to dark corners. Or reach for balance, arms extended and flailing, looking for the base of a tree. Or a toilet. Laughter. Shattered glass. Music. Possession.
She wonders why she’s awake. Slowing. Observing. But she feels like throwing up, and she doesn’t know if it’s the alcohol or the people, so she takes another shot, closes her eyes, and starts spinning again.
I seem to have been born with my head slightly tilted to the right and forward with enough momentum to nod whenever anyone starts to speak. To listen completely. A nature of gentle inquisition, effective at finding people’s feelings falling out in conversation, picking them up and filing them away. Revisiting when necessary. A hyper-active maternal instinct that tries to make everything alright forever. Obligatory. A de-emphasis on myself. When people notice…They don’t. Happy for the space to share without taking. Nonthreatening. Unintimidating. Too feminine.
Small waist. Large hips. Kind eyes.
Natural impulse – smile. Natural impulse—warmth. Natural impulse—love. Attempted understanding.
Natural disposition: loneliness. Natural disposition: crippled by the weight of everything taken off other people.
Society has always pushed the promise of a strong, wise male, coming along to shoulder it all. society lies. Because everyone is broken. And everyone is looking for someone with the answers, someone to see them as whole. And someone never knows and someone never cares to look too closely. And someone never wants to bother carrying the weight of the world.
and I understand. It’s too much to ask of someone. And no one is easier to find.
I’m guessing that being dead feels like nothing. And my thoughts on this aren’t necessarily educated. They really only stem from the fact that I fainted once. And it felt like nothing. The unconscious part of that experience I meant.
So I imagine that when we die, and we lose our consciousness, it’s similar to how you feel when you have fainted. Or when you’re sleeping and have no dreams. You feel nothing.
So when Philosophers like Seneca and Epictetus tell us not to fear death, I get it. I get it because you can only fear death when you’re awake, and when you’re awake, you’re not dead, so you’re worrying for no reason. And when you’re dead, you’re too busy feeling nothing to fear anything.
I think of how I’m feeling right now. And death doesn’t feel so bad.