This is dated July 2017 but it's actually been sitting in drafts most of that time and I'm publishing it now (March 2020) on this blog because a) it remains largely true lol and b) it comes from a point in time that while different (clearly), I also felt very creative and in touch with my thoughts and self in a way I feel very removed from now. I want to explore that more again here, on this blog, and not publishing this feels disingenuous. However, it does have much angst, and is very cringy, so please don't feel compelled to read it. K thx.
My brain can do fucking cartwheels.
My brain is the star performer at a circus
or a freak show.
My brain could be balancing twelve plates on its nose,
while standing on a beach ball and
while singing Celine Dion and
while juggling and
while belly dancing and
still manage to tell me what a fucking failure
disappointment
waste of oxygen
toxic person I am.
My brain is marvelous.
My brain is capable of twisting every thought
beyond recognition.
My brain can take the most explicit compliment given to me and
break it apart.
distort it.
bruise it.
shatter it.
annihilate it
me.
My brain is so strong and confident.
My brain knows exactly what it needs to think about myself and
none of it is kind.
My brain is my most powerful weapon
against myself.
And boy, do I use it.
boring
predictable
stupid
untalented
idiotic
selfish
poisonous
unlovable
pathetic
weak
desperate
neurotic
psychotic
rejecte- I could go on.
My brain wants me to.
My brain is telling me all the ways that list is incomplete.
Even this, I can't do right.
My brain has worn down the paths of my thoughts so well that
I literally can't conceive
of a single
positive trait
about
myself.
My brain can do fucking cartwheels.
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