stupid
she told me her nickname was ‘red’ and she asked for mine—i didn’t have one i said and i guess that was the point where i started to feel i wasn’t enough: because people didn’t call me by something other than my name so i started making up stories to compensate.
its funny to me to look back on some of these stories and how they all made sense at the time sitting here now in my infinite wisdom condescending to my past self as though scolding a misbehaving child who just didnt do well enough—not because my stories werent up to par on some imaginary scale of cunningly convincing creations but because they werent—yknow—true.
i dont give my past self enough credit if i hadnt made all those stupid calls i wouldnt have learnt anything worthwhile and if i dont stay up at three a.m. accusing myself drumming up alternate realities ill forget what the lesson was just early-onset emotional alzheimers.
for all i beat myself up for anything that didnt end start finish how i wanted it i forget that it is because of those myselves that this myself is my self mine me.
i am still the only product i could construct given context and acting within that context the decisions taken on a large small scale all clay added or subtracted from the sole central of my existence.
i need to be kinder to all my selves.
***
i actually had a nickname at one point it was dildo.
yeah tell me about it.
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