I Am My Own Type

Yes! Self-empowerment!

No.

This post is not trying to be trivial by any means but rather an attempt to encapsulate my sentiments about the realization of Sharne’ Lauren Lazarus.

For all long as I can remember I had convinced myself that I had to be the most refined most perfect version of myself. I always wanted to be pretty, or rather to be viewed as being pretty. When people pointed out my flaws I would find ways to convince myself that they were all blinded by their own insecurities.

I would become so overcome by my own flaws and insecurities that it would literally eat me up inside. As I started to grow older my perception of myself supposedly changed, especially in the eleventh grade. I decided to adopt this “screw the world” attitude towards everyone. I became more androgynous in my dressing, I chopped off all my hair and became incredibly angsty. Though my intentions were in the right place, I believe that my execution was rather botched by my own misinterpretations of myself and the world around me. From there I started to hate beautiful people. I would stand in amazement and gawk at their magnificence but apart from that, I would find reasons for these individuals to be seen as faulty. The irony of it all is the fact that all of my friends have been some of the most beautiful creatures I have ever seen. And here I was, the dork who is allergic to half the world with enough flaws to dot an innumerable amount of constellations.

I thought that somehow by entering into college that I would have the ability to relinquish all of my insecurity. For a moment, I was capable of that little hope. It was a profound experience because for a moment I was so okay with who I was to the point that people noticed a radiance about me. Reality, however, is a nasty master.

Transferring to another school lead me to that realization. There was a different energy when coming to the new school. In a way, the atmosphere seemed placid and empty all at once. It didn’t help me that all of my friends here were actually perfect. My crushing self-esteem issues decided to resurface from that. I went to believing that I was a world changer who chose to dress in the tapestry of the nations to a small, brown potato who tried to look the part.

I have created this black hole for myself. I feed off the approval of others or worse the approval of myself. I want to be perfect even though I know it is unattainable. I want to be the smart and pretty girl. I want to be admired and loved by all. Yes, I know that I sound shallow but I know that I am just lost. I am still maturing and growing. It’s easy to call people beautiful or talented yet when it comes down to myself in the mirror I am incapable of producing those words.

What makes it harder is the fact that for many I feel like I am undeserving of love. I truly don’t think that people can really love me for me. How can I expect others to love me when I cannot love myself? Let me take this a little farther. How can I tell everyone around me that they are deserving of the world yet say otherwise to myself?

I don’t know when I will have that moment again. That moment of feeling purely free from any inhibition. I want to one day see myself for the magnificent soul that I am. I have a lot to offer this world. Not to compare me to others but rather to have that epiphanic moment for myself. Hopefully, this will come in the near future.

PS. I know that I have crooked teeth. I am undeniably hairy because my bones were born from the dust of the Indian hills. I am an ugly crier, I fart, I am way too passionate for my own sake, and I overanalyze everything; that’s okay. I have curves and stretch marks. I can swallow my breath as much as possible but my “skinny days” were left in middle school as well as my “prepubescent self.” So, bye.