freefall

i was sitting on the couch the other night

scrolling through some old pictures on my phone

when it suddenly dawned on me

there is a human being in this world who likes me.


What the hell?


Do I have a self-esteem problem? I don't think so. Maybe I did, when I was that quiet kid whose aspirations to be one of the "cool" emo kids were botched by a mother that refused to pay for clothes from Hot Topic and a daily tennis routine that annihilated any hope of pale ghostly skin. But you learn things when you strike out on your own for a while. You learn how to admire without coveting, to scoop yourself out of the fatalistic, pessimistic "why was i born this way" hole and tell yourself in a mantra, "i may have been this way, but who says i have to stay this way?" You grow into your own skin and soon enough, you learn to love the most important person: yourself.

And yet, the idea that someone else might feel the same way is fucking unbelievable.

WHY? ARE YOU INSANE? I want to shake this human by the collar, but I'm too proud to appear as if I am fishing for compliments. Since when did I possess the ability to inspire such grand chivalrous gestures? Since when did anyone ever feel compelled to prepare their heart as an offering to this false idol? The only explanation must be extreme desperation or absolute madness.

I'm not trying to be self-deprecating---"Aw shucks, who would ever feel a thing for sad ole me?" It's just that when you spend your whole life watching the ladies around you pair off with the gentlemen to dance, you start to believe that you're just simply not attractive (to the right people)... and that's okay. Just as you learn to accept that you're never going to be the cool emo kid, you accept your dealt cards and move on with your life.

Until you don't.