Well, it's not actually fun to hate yourself but it satisfies this sort of sick wanting that bubbles inside of you- at least, that's how I feel whenever I see a flaw. I view self-pity and loathing as a drug; it's something which slowly kills you, yet somehow you can't live without it. Am I making any sense? Probably not. So, I'll just write about my experiences of self-hating here on this blog.
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I was never exactly comfortable with myself--- my body, my mind, my attitude. I was never they type of person to stay optimistic; the type that says: Everything's going to be fine. In fact, from January-March of the year 2012, I could have won the Noble prize for being the greatest pessimist of the 21st century. You should have seen my previous blog (it has two long posts about how I am the most imperfect person in this universe and little bitchy rants like that), the blog which lead into the falling out with this close friend of mine.
Getting out of this state of mind proved to be quite a challenge for me. Even with the knowledge that half of my friends absolutely enjoyed my company (that was sarcasm; they were pissed off with my very existence, thank you very much; I don't blame them, I was too), I still continued to drown myself in this sort of state of mind. It took several weeks, two sessions with a psychiatrist and a lot of headslaps, but I was finally able to get into another and much better state of mind.
I finally reached the: I'll do what I love and I'll love what I do. Fuck the rest.
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Sometimes I shift back into that already shitty idea of myself and yeah, sometimes, I do think that I'm this giant screw up who disgraces my whole family...
But that all can be fixed with one little headslap.
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