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Off the Record

I care a lot. I invest a great deal of time into my appearance, even more energy into how I come across to others. I change outfits three times just to go to Tesco. I second guess every thing I say, and then fight the urge to alter my opinion should someone disagree with it. I wrap all myself worth up and place a pretty bow on it, then hand it to others. I find someone, I fall for them, I give them space in my bed, in my heart and hand them my self-esteem. Each time I pray they won’t destroy me. Each time they walk out that door.

I come home and get stressed about dishes; I start flapping about and can’t function if someone doesn’t text me back or respond to my message on Facebook – please tell me what I’ve done wrong? I view every good thing I do as another opportunity to be disappointed in myself, because I don’t do anything right. The most important thing to me is how I am perceived by others. I am exhausted. The war I am in to love myself is a war I cannot win.

The one day perhaps I’ll wake up, having gone through massive personal growth during my sleep, and just stop caring. I’ll realise that caring that much about everything has sucked me dry; it’s left me numb to the bullshit I have to wade through everyday. I am ready to breathe again, I am ready to feel alive.

I’ll tell that boy I like to fuck off via iMessage and watch as he tries to manipulate me by dangling nudes. I’ll look at him, at every guy that’s hurt me, and laugh as they attempt to flash my self worth in front of my face “Look what we have, look what we have!” You’re all wrong, you have nothing. All you have is the regret that you gave up on a good thing (me.) Even though they don’t realise that now, one day they will. One day they’ll not be able to watch TV without hearing my name.

I’ll continue to leave my apartment looking good, only by my standards and not that of others. I’ll quit my job and find a new one; because I am capable of more than being made to feel bad. I am one person. I can only do so much. I’ll not let anyone get one up on me, because I won’t care anymore. I’ll just silently mock their insecurities and inflated egos. They may make remarks and yesterday this would have horrified me, but today it will make me smile. Everything that made me worry will make me smile.

I’ll walk with better posture. I’ll tell vodka I don’t need it to boost my confidence. I’ll have a good time but I’ll be in control. I won’t feel guilty about it. I’ll ask friends for favours and make them listen to me when I feel low. I’d do the same for them so why should I feel bad about putting them out?

I will make people listen to the music I like because it is good and I don’t care for their opinions. Liking Jojo has never felt so liberating. I’ll never mutter the words ‘I love you’ to anyone unless the deserve it. Because it is a privilege to be loved by me. My emotionally slutty days are over.

All the times I’ve paid for lunch or coffee and they just expect it, that will stop. I’ll not loan or give clothes to people anymore because I earned those clothes by working hard for them.
No one is getting away with anything anymore.

Of course this is never quite how it happens. This change won’t necessarily happen overnight. I won’t go to sleep worrying and then wake up not giving a shit. I will find ways to care less but still be who I am. I will surround myself with people who love me and weed out the parasites.

Caring about things that ultimately don’t matter feels like eating when you’re not hungry but you do it because it’s a free buffet. It will weigh you down. Eventually caring so much will cause my body to start rejecting it and I’ll throw it back up, feeling so free and relieved afterwards.

Yes, I just compared finding my self-esteem to bulimia. I don’t care. Get it?

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