I don’t know if I ever really liked myself.
If I did I don’t remember.
I’d tell myself I was stupid. Ugly. Bad.
You get the idea.
I’m not stupid. There’s plenty of proof of that.
Beauty is subjective. So is ugliness. All of my significant others have told me I’m handsome. So has my mom. 😉
We all do good things. We all do bad things. I’ve done plenty of bad things. Some indefensible. But I try to be a good man. I think that counts for a lot.
We all have hard times. They’re a part of life.
We all need help. We need support. From others, and from ourselves.
Life is tough.
Don’t make it tougher than it has to be.
I’ve noticed a pattern in my romantic relationships.
Several women I’ve loved have been the victims of abuse.
I wanted to save them.
I wanted to show them they were worthy of love. That they had value.
I thought if I told them how wonderful they were they would see that I was right. They would see how beautiful they were, inside and out. They would see themselves the way I saw them.
I was wrong.
It wasn’t enough.
I failed them.
I wanted to be the knight in shining armor. To ride in on my white horse. To slay the dragon and save the damsel in distress.
I’m really just a scared little boy.
My armor is made of cardboard and paper. My horse is a broomstick. My sword is made of wood.
I can’t save you.
I’m not even sure I can save me.