She said, “Don’t, don’t let it go to your head…” — Taking Back Sunday
The vanity mirror in my room is littered with post-it notes. Upon them, affirmations. I feel like a bit narcissist as I look at them now. However, on a damper day, I will appreciate the optimistic reminders: I am beautiful. I am intelligent. I am creative. Be selfish. Validate yourself.
I can only control the perceptions I have about myself. Unfortunately, they have not been achieving the expected standards lately. It’s a difficult process to cleanse ingrained conceptions of the psyche. Envy and rage has seeded its heartless anchor within my insecurities. I then allow the mental state govern the way I think or act. Disgust. Breathe. Compartmentalize.
From a mind’s eye, I scold my emotions for being so erratic. Separate halves, different as day and night, converging as one person. I am jealous of nothing really, a person leading a path that is opposite to the journey I am on. She is a temptress, her body used as a weapon to desire. We both fawn for admiration. Though I am more inclined to connect with another introspectively first and not prey on the power of seduction. Perhaps that is because the benevolent universe did not choose to endow my body, for it knows I would use it devilishly.
Instead, I must learn to develop wits. The joy.
I respect the choices others decide to make. I’d rather not have to deal with potential suitors that would succumb to weakness anyway. And by weakness, I mean their penis. I wasn’t sure if the wordage was too subtle. Promiscuity behaves as a buffer, for that I am pleased. I have my best interest at heart, I’m searching for people with that same quality.
I can only control the perceptions I have about myself. Unfortunately, they have not been achieving the expected standards lately. It’s a difficult process to cleanse ingrained conceptions of the psyche. Envy and rage has seeded its heartless anchor within my insecurities. I then allow the mental state govern the way I think or act. Disgust. Breathe. Compartmentalize.
From a mind’s eye, I scold my emotions for being so erratic. Separate halves, different as day and night, converging as one person. I am jealous of nothing really, a person leading a path that is opposite to the journey I am on. She is a temptress, her body used as a weapon to desire. We both fawn for admiration. Though I am more inclined to connect with another introspectively first and not prey on the power of seduction. Perhaps that is because the benevolent universe did not choose to endow my body, for it knows I would use it devilishly.
Instead, I must learn to develop wits. The joy.
I respect the choices others decide to make. I’d rather not have to deal with potential suitors that would succumb to weakness anyway. And by weakness, I mean their penis. I wasn’t sure if the wordage was too subtle. Promiscuity behaves as a buffer, for that I am pleased. I have my best interest at heart, I’m searching for people with that same quality.
