Sometimes I’ll look at old pictures of myself and endlessly think “God, I was so much more attractive, what happened? Why did I let this happen? Where did this come from? I wish I looked like I did even just a few months ago.”
This happens way too often. All of the time.
So I just stopped to think….wait…..so in a few months time…….will I be looking back on these pictures? And thinking the same thing? Is my perception of my real, living self false? If so, what am I now? Am I beautiful now? Does that make me desirable to myself? Are these the goals that I’ll set for myself down the road?
And THIS, ladies and gentlemen and pizzas, is why I post pictures of myself on the internet. So that I can have some THING to look back on that I once felt confident enough with and see myself in that light and think “yes, yes I am alive and a human being with skin and that is cool and nobody else looks like me”.
A lot of people have complained about my excess posting of myself.
Truth be told, my Tumblr is one of the only places where I feel like my actual self. And I feel like I don’t need to feel beautiful. I just get to feel. That’s why I’m so protective of it. There is a lot of history here. A lot of safety. A lot of discord. A lot of virtue. A lot of me. It is important for me to have this, because a lot of the time I will walk outside and want to cry. So hard. Half of the need to cry being because I don’t know WHY I want to cry. I don’t get sad when I look at models. I don’t read magazines anymore. I don’t worry what people particularly think about me.
So why I walk outside and feel hideous and wretched and loathsome and insignificant some days is beyond me.
I need to force myself to see myself. So I take pictures. And sometimes I feel better. Sometimes it makes me want to cry even harder. But moments like this make the beauty and the ease of the insignificance of it all come to light full speed, full blown, in a really incredible way. And it doesn’t matter what I look like.