For years I’ve searched for someone to love me, to come in and magically change my life, to make things all better for me. I did that thing for so long where I wanted to be shaped and formed by someone else’s desires, to be put into place by what someone wanted from me.
Which probably explains why I’m not good at staying with someone for very long.
I fall in love with this idea of pleasing someone else, this concept of becoming what I think they want and then eventually even that seems shallow and stupid to both of us and we fall into this sort of going through the motions of weirdness.
I know in my heart I’ve always wanted to be accepted. But how fucking difficult is that? Here, look at how damaged I am, is that going to work for you? Are you going to be accept all this damage, COD? Should I try another house? Did you even order this kind of damage?
As I spend more and more time alone I appear to be fighting with the demons inside my own head as to what I’m even trying to be, what person I’m trying to please. I mean it is ostensibly me that I’m trying to please. But which me? Which is a jacked up kind of question anyway. Am I trying to please the me that wants to take care of her family or the arty little flighty freak inside of me that wants to paint and write and live off of three dollars a day? Am I trying to please the shut-in or the extrovert?
And what the hell are all these chicks doing in my head?
I’ve always thought that I didn’t like myself very much. Maybe there were times I didn’t. As I get older I’m just having less and less time to bag on my shit and I’m just trying to deal with the fact that this is how it is, now how do I move forward with that? I don’t think it is the same as loving myself, but it is a lot like coming to terms with not needing someone else to love me, or needing to become something I’m not to try and gain someone else’s love.