“Why don’t the beautiful people know they’re beautiful?”
“I don’t know.”
“I want to slap them and tell them to knock that shit off, and then I want to find the people who convinced them they aren’t beautiful and throat punch them.”
One of the hardest things for me to accept in this world is how many of us are so broken; carrying around old words, old scars, old wounds that still somehow bleed a little too much a little too often. Being wounded happens. I get that, but why is it so hard to shake it off? Why does that nonsense linger like old fish?
It’s it a cultural thing? Is it a fear of seeming too narcissistic? Why do we carry the legacy of this pain with us years into the future, in spite of evidence to the contrary?
And why do we not call out the people who do this? Some people do, and those people are the reason I’m not more jaded. There are everyday heroes around every corner. Modern psychology tells us our options are fight, flight or freeze. Most of us flee or freeze, another lingering remnant of past abuse.
We need to start being kinder to ourselves, we need to be willing to risk it all and just be loving in appropriate ways, and we need to correct the record, wherever it goes astray.
Life is too short to believe all these hurtful, ugly, bullshit lies.