June 24th 2016
I am a believer in things. I am a believer in people. I am a believer in love. I am a believer in the universe. I am a believer that we learn from what the world puts in front of us. I am a believer in change.
I am a believer in many things…just not me.
Sometimes when I look into the mirror, into my own eyes, I wonder why I was made the way I was. I wonder why when I speak about myself I put myself in a group and say “people like me…”:
“People like me have always had trouble fitting in” “People like me just don’t see the world the way everyone else does” “People like me don’t make many friends”
But there are no “people like me”. I am me and there is only one and if there were more than just one, then what would make me special? I put myself in this box and deny myself the potential of being special. I group myself with other people and deplete my own worth as this sick form of self harm.
And the tough thing about being a believer in things other than myself is that I often derive my own personal happiness from the things I believe in and when those things fail me it is as though I failed myself…and this is when I hurt myself.
I shut down. I don’t talk to people. I sleep more. I spend more time in bed. I have less fun when I go out. I don’t engage with new people. I can’t make eye contact. I can’t hold a conversation or even focus for very long before I start to crawl back into myself as if to hide from the world while in plain sight.
Now this begs the question:
“If I believed in myself like I believed in most things, who could I be?”