2am/I can’t say that I was a good person at all in these past 7 years of my life (the last two especially).
I used past and present pain as a means to justify my own crappy actions and lack of action. I took advantage of people. I was told people were drawn to the light, I found out that they were, I became enchanted by the light and fixated on ways to brighten it. Bathed in my own light in a way that I became intoxicated by it, found that it had become too harsh– an artificial light. Affections and friendships were trophies, dishonesty and manipulation was excused by self-righteousness.
Narcissism masked deeper rooted self-worthlessness and birthed blind arrogance. Fake empathy, empty words, dramatics (if there was anything the light was good for, the familiar “lights, camera, action” does the trick–I was a one-man theatre troop).
To put it simply, I was cruel and I’m disgusted.
See, I’m still coming to terms with everything, accepting things that have happened, learning. I’m not proud of myself at all for what I’ve done in the past; there’s no use sugar coating with bits that I have done things for others, that I have been good or kind in bits because I know those bits exist– it’s just that right now, I don’t need them. They’ll only serve to coax an ego or fuel the light that has only so blinded me. I’m focusing on those stains that I’ve tucked away. I don’t need sugar coating or comfort or reassurance or anything. I’m aware. I’m not dismissing my existence as terrible; the actions were. I’m not entirely sorted out, and even now I can’t say at all that I like myself– but I’m not rushing it.
We’re always in such a big rush to love ourselves, love flaws and mistakes, find beauty in everything but there has never really been a need to. The point is, despite everything, I’m still whole. The ugly parts aren’t ever going to be beautiful to me but does everything have to be beautiful? I can’t ever fall in love with my mistakes but I can accept them and learn from them. And there’s no harm at all in taking baby steps.
I don’t like myself right now
but I’m still retracing my steps. Following a little stream, picking up cast aside stones of memory to return to the stream, hoping that as time goes on, I’ll find that bit of me that I’ve lost so long ago to send back. The part I loved dearly. The part that keeps me going. The “little more okay.” Me.
A stream of light, a stream of water, a stream of thought.
To become a person that can inspire me, a person that is “good.” And I believe that when the time comes and I become the person I want to be, I won’t even realize it. Because by then, I won’t even think about the light’s glow but how it holds others. A goodness in whole-heartedness.
(But I really was an asshole. But at least I’m a self-aware asshole hoping to keep the first part of the title and lose the second… not in a literal sense because I need that part for my health. My bowel movements matter greatly to me.)