Every once in a while, I wake up and hate myself. I don't know why, I don't know what it is, but for the next little while I can't help it. It could be that I don't like some aspect of myself, usually my body or the way I look, or the way I think, or my art or my (lack of) social skills, something small like that, but some days it's all of it.
Today was one of those days. I woke up and I just couldn't stand the thought of myself for some reason. I noticed my body first, It's not like I'm really that badly out of shape, but it's enough to make me feel disgusted, and I know I'm working on it, but it's the kind of thing that makes me feel like I'm helpless, and it reminds me why I wear these big sweaters all the time.
It's followed by my looks, just in every aspect.
Then I start to wonder why I can be so stupid, and why I can hold on to certain hopes and get certain ideas in my head, even though the things, places or people that I want are all way out of my grasp.
Then I start to second guess my artistic ability. I wonder why, if I'm as talented as people like to think, I can barely finish a comic. Why are there pages and pages of "first issues" of comics that I've started and never finished sitting up on my bookshelf in my room?
It's a bad day when it starts off like this, I know. But then, it's been a while since I had a genuinely good day. I think it's in my head, all of this, but unfortunately that doesn't make it any less real to me. I tend to believe what I think before what I can see.
I'm an idiot.
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