love letter

i can't believe how it's such an alien concept for me to say something good about myself. primarily because i'm a self-loathing piece of shit and i'd rather that the locus of my personal validation are exogenous. but how can i expect to be loved if i can't even love myself. simple really. from other people that likewise don't love themselves. but that's just freaking unhealthy. so here's a change in pace.

hey you piece of shit,

you don't really suck. it just so happens that there isn't anything concrete that proves the value you ought to see in yourself. cause there isn't a shortage of people that see your worth. there'll always be that disconnect because you decided to adjust your belief to think that you never seemed to fit into anyone's definition of success. but they had a reason to believe you have what it takes. you never lost it. it was always there. you never stopped your lofty dreams. you never stopped passionately pursuing things. and with the things you managed to find yourself putting your heart into, you've achieved a certain level of competence that not a lot of people could attain. perhaps the validation of your capability is largely absent, and that discourages you to continue because you don't feel that there's any advancement taking place. but you don't really need a plaque. it'll only collect dust. what you have instead is the sweet sound of music that comes from your piano or guitar. what you have instead is the flavorful food from your kitchen. what you have instead are profound works of literature in both personal and professional capacities. you have to admit, you're pretty fucking good. and no, this time around it's not about other people being better or worse. and no, this time around legitimately believe in yourself. your clock doesn't say "it's clobberin' time" for nothing.

sincerely,

a recovering skeptic