I want to stop seeing myself as so much of a victim, and more of an overcomer. I don’t have to be what troubles me. I’m not my past. I’m just Abigail, and I want to define myself differently. I want to be able to laugh at myself, to not care so much. Honestly, the only one judging me is myself. Nobody’s talking about me behind my back. Nobody secretly hates me (as far as I know). I’m trying to take on the attitude of summer. Yes, the season. Summer doesn’t care. It’s forgiving and warm. If somebody doesn’t like me, they can screw off. I’m just different. I’m Abigail. I don’t deserve to be looked at rudely or talked down to, bullied or mocked. Nobody can make me different. Let’s face it, I do weird crap. I don’t make any sense. And you know what? That’s okay. Making sense isn’t any fun.
I should start seeing the things I beat myself up over as good things. My clinginess, for instance. There’s got to be some good in that. What’s the silver lining? Sure, I’m clingy, but is that perhaps because I care deeply for people? Maybe every bad quality is just a twisted form of a good quality. Clinginess is a twisted form of loyalty and love, perhaps. Maybe my being easily wounded is because I have a sensitive soul? I’m sensitive to other people hurting, too.
I’m not trying to use this to justify bad behavior. I mean, if you kill people, you can’t really twist that. I’m really talking more of things we’re insecure about, things we hate ourselves for. Hey, I should make a list!
I don’t really know how to end this, so…hey, you! You are loved! You are special! Everything is going to be okay, I promise.