Nobody Will Like Me Until I Like Myself
I open Hinge. No matches.
There was a time when I had self confidence. There was a time when I didn’t bother with dating apps. I could look people in the eye and hold a conversation. Now I’m a shell of my former self.
I don’t know how I ended up at this low point, and it doesn’t matter. All I know is that I am capable of more. At one point I was energetic, I had a bright future and I did everything in my power to better myself. I am a long way from there. I can’t live this way any longer, asphyxiating in self pity. I am ready to go back.
I’m ready to go back to cutting my hair short. No longer must I be crippled with fear of being perceived. Overcome by anxiety that someone might look upon my skin and see the imperfections, the acne and the moles and the scars, and be disgusted by them.
I’m ready to stop complaining about my job. Nobody wants to hear me moan about the commute and the coworkers and the goddamn cubicle.
I used to make friends and meet people when I wasn’t so insufferable. Let’s get back to that.