I Fucking Rule

Someone made me feel ter­ri­ble the oth­er day. She igno­rant­ly belit­tled almost every­thing that I’ve worked for in my life. To have this per­son so insou­ciant­ly give me advice on some­thing that I’m still try­ing to accom­plish was com­plete­ly insult­ing. Yet I can’t blame this per­son, because the com­ments made were in igno­rance of how hard I’ve tried, how much I’ve worked, how dif­fi­cult it’s been to make myself a bet­ter per­son.

With most oth­er peo­ple, I could­n’t care less about their opin­ions. But I respect­ed this per­son. I held her in the high esteem. This per­son was already most of what I want­ed to become. And, nat­u­ral­ly, this made her opin­ion impor­tant to me.

I don’t know what her back­ground is, or how she’s come to devel­op as the per­son that I know, but I do know that mine has made things dif­fi­cult on a men­tal lev­el.

It takes me longer than oth­ers to get over things. I only trust half a hand­ful of peo­ple. I’m still emo­tion­al­ly weak in some respects.

I’ve come a long way, and even though I still have much fur­ther to go, that does­n’t dimin­ish the fact that I’ve suc­ceed­ed thus far. Or the fact that it’s been a fuck­ing strug­gle. Or the fact that I’m fuck­ing proud of who I am now, and what I’ve already accom­plished.

So what can I say, real­ly, about these things said in pass­ing? Nothing. All I have to keep in mind is that what I’m work­ing towards is much eas­i­er to some than to oth­ers. That it’s me who’s in con­trol of my amour pro­pre.

And that, in the end, all that tru­ly mat­ters is self-sat­is­fac­tion.

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