REinVENTion
I have come to a startling conclusion the other day. I was sitting in my room, thinking about a lot of current events (Most of which don’t really matter) while playing guitar, and it suddenly hit me.
I genuinely hate myself. Not the sort of passive “Eh, I sort of suck”, but I mean that I really despise a lot of things about myself. Here’s a list, if only for the sake of me remembering what I hate.
I hate how shy I am. It’s a giant fucking hinderance. I wonder why I’m so lonely sometimes, and it’s always my fault. I limit my interactions with people so that I can’t humiliate myself, because afterall, like Mr. Twain said, “It’s better to be thought a fool than to open your mouth and remove all doubt.” Sorry, Clemens, but you’re fucking wrong on that one, for sure. I always escalate the extremely remote possibility of self-humiliation until it becomes an inevitable in my mind, and the only way to avoid it is to sit there and say nothing. That’s garbage right there; I’d rather be routinely humiliated and make a few good friends out of it than shut up and miss out on everything.
I hate how out of shape I am. I can’t look in a mirror and not cringe and think about what a worthless fat piece of shit I am. I’ve felt that way about the way I’ve looked ever since 7th grade (The height of my weight gain) and I haven’t liked the way I look ever since then. Even when I lost a majority of the weight in high school, I still hated my looks, and decided to cover up what I didn’t like instead of working on it. I’ve since managed to convince myself that if I ignore my shortcomings, they’ll go away; no such luck, folks.
Most of all, I hate how I hate myself (Go laugh-out-loud somewhere else, please). I don’t value myself in the slightest I don’t find really any qualities I have to be likeable or good, and as such, I quite literally have no self-esteem. But how can I expect anyone to like me, or to love me, if I don’t first love myself?
I hate how I don’t have a reason to live. I don’t feel as though I have a cause in this life, and as such, an early death is something that I look forward to. At one point in my life, I used to make ideas, or women my reason to live, but I’ve discovered that this no longer works. I want a REAL reason to live. Which leads me to the word of the day.
Reinvention. It means “to invent again or anew.” It’s like when a cog in a machine keeps repeatedly breaking and all the patches don’t hold for longer than a few minutes; one must reinvent cog if your machine ever has hope of working again.
I’m pushing myself through a phase I’m calling reinvention. I’m searching my past to rediscover the things I like about myself (Hence much of the J-Rock) and I’m trying to work on everything else. I’m remaking myself to make something that I not only like, but love.
I want to love myself. I want to think I’m cool and awesome; I no longer want to think of myself as a miserable piece of shit; not only is it not productive, it really doesn’t feel good.
I’m doing my best to be more outgoing with people I don’t know. I started talking to this girl in Spanish class for literally no reason other than to work on not being shy (Okay, she was hot, shut up). I try to start conversations with random strangers to just to shake off that coat of social anxiety.
I’m exercising a lot and eating a bit better. I lifted weights yesterday and I biked 15 miles today. I’ve all but stopped drinking sodas and have increased my water intake by tons. I’m not going to eat any more fried foods or fast food and I’m going to continue to do this exercise routine until I can reach my goal; one armed push-ups with Fernando on my back. Until then, there’s room for improvement.
I’m not going to look to anyone to give me a reason to live, because none of you can give me an acceptable answer. You could tell me an idea, a person, a thing, and none of that would work. I’ve found my answer already, but I need to believe in it.
I want to live for myself.
As part of this reinvention, some of you might not like what you see when I get done, and that’s fine. If I was living for you, then maybe I’d have a problem with becoming something you don’t like, but I’m living for me, which means if you don’t like what you see, you know where the door is.
I genuinely hate myself. Not the sort of passive “Eh, I sort of suck”, but I mean that I really despise a lot of things about myself. Here’s a list, if only for the sake of me remembering what I hate.
I hate how shy I am. It’s a giant fucking hinderance. I wonder why I’m so lonely sometimes, and it’s always my fault. I limit my interactions with people so that I can’t humiliate myself, because afterall, like Mr. Twain said, “It’s better to be thought a fool than to open your mouth and remove all doubt.” Sorry, Clemens, but you’re fucking wrong on that one, for sure. I always escalate the extremely remote possibility of self-humiliation until it becomes an inevitable in my mind, and the only way to avoid it is to sit there and say nothing. That’s garbage right there; I’d rather be routinely humiliated and make a few good friends out of it than shut up and miss out on everything.
I hate how out of shape I am. I can’t look in a mirror and not cringe and think about what a worthless fat piece of shit I am. I’ve felt that way about the way I’ve looked ever since 7th grade (The height of my weight gain) and I haven’t liked the way I look ever since then. Even when I lost a majority of the weight in high school, I still hated my looks, and decided to cover up what I didn’t like instead of working on it. I’ve since managed to convince myself that if I ignore my shortcomings, they’ll go away; no such luck, folks.
Most of all, I hate how I hate myself (Go laugh-out-loud somewhere else, please). I don’t value myself in the slightest I don’t find really any qualities I have to be likeable or good, and as such, I quite literally have no self-esteem. But how can I expect anyone to like me, or to love me, if I don’t first love myself?
I hate how I don’t have a reason to live. I don’t feel as though I have a cause in this life, and as such, an early death is something that I look forward to. At one point in my life, I used to make ideas, or women my reason to live, but I’ve discovered that this no longer works. I want a REAL reason to live. Which leads me to the word of the day.
Reinvention. It means “to invent again or anew.” It’s like when a cog in a machine keeps repeatedly breaking and all the patches don’t hold for longer than a few minutes; one must reinvent cog if your machine ever has hope of working again.
I’m pushing myself through a phase I’m calling reinvention. I’m searching my past to rediscover the things I like about myself (Hence much of the J-Rock) and I’m trying to work on everything else. I’m remaking myself to make something that I not only like, but love.
I want to love myself. I want to think I’m cool and awesome; I no longer want to think of myself as a miserable piece of shit; not only is it not productive, it really doesn’t feel good.
I’m doing my best to be more outgoing with people I don’t know. I started talking to this girl in Spanish class for literally no reason other than to work on not being shy (Okay, she was hot, shut up). I try to start conversations with random strangers to just to shake off that coat of social anxiety.
I’m exercising a lot and eating a bit better. I lifted weights yesterday and I biked 15 miles today. I’ve all but stopped drinking sodas and have increased my water intake by tons. I’m not going to eat any more fried foods or fast food and I’m going to continue to do this exercise routine until I can reach my goal; one armed push-ups with Fernando on my back. Until then, there’s room for improvement.
I’m not going to look to anyone to give me a reason to live, because none of you can give me an acceptable answer. You could tell me an idea, a person, a thing, and none of that would work. I’ve found my answer already, but I need to believe in it.
I want to live for myself.
As part of this reinvention, some of you might not like what you see when I get done, and that’s fine. If I was living for you, then maybe I’d have a problem with becoming something you don’t like, but I’m living for me, which means if you don’t like what you see, you know where the door is.