A short un-edited essay on my self-worth
by andy pickens


I'm in a love/hate relationship with myself.  
I'm a closet ego-maniac. 
When people don't talk to me, I automatically come to the conclusion that they can't stand me.  
I need that attention. 
I don't let anyone know that I need that attention.
I listen more than I talk, so it's difficult for me to initiate conversation.  
I listen more than I talk, until I'm comfortable enough to make myself look like an idiot. 
I have very few relationships like this. 

I never say the right thing.  I always say the almost-right thing.  
That may be a reason why I have so few friends.  
I love the fact that I don't have many friends, but at the same time I'm jealous of people who have more friends than I do.  
I love having friends that my other friends don't know, but I can't make friends to begin with so it kind of negates itself.    

I have certain friends that can save my life just by talking to me.  About anything.  
It happens just by hearing their voice.  It's never happened to me before...

...but it happened recently.

They don't know about it, but they need to.  
They need to know that they saved my life.
I'll never be able to tell them because I have problems initiating conversation. 
It all comes together in the end, doesn't it?
The conversations stopped, and it crushed me.  
People talk to me, they need something from me, they get what they need, then it stops.
I can't let another 3 to 4 years of non-communication happen again.  Ever.
I feel like my life needs to be saved every single day.  
And I know that's too much to ask for.  
And I know It'll never happen.
So I continue pretending to be happy.

I have features that I'm unhappy with.
I like my face but I hate my profile.
I need to stand up straight more often.
I feel that my body type is incredibly unattractive to most people.
It can't be helped.
That's depressing.

I'm so emotionally unstable that one big swing in either direction could cause a nervous breakdown.  
The ending or beginning of a relationship.
Neither of which I've experienced.
I blame it on rejection.
I'm more afraid of rejection than I am afraid of heights.
And I am fucking scared of heights.
The reason I'm so particular about who I interact with is because of that fear.
I interact with those who I think won't reject me.  Seems simple enough.  
It isn't.

I've come to the conclusion that people who drink don't enjoy hanging out with people who don't.
I know the opposite is false.
I find it strange that I don't know anyone that doesn't drink.
This seems irrelevant, but it relates to making friends and initiating conversation.
I like to be in control of myself and my emotions.
I rarely am.
Alcohol would only make things worse.
Traumatic experiences contributed to my current situation.
I'll save that for another time.

I worry too much.
I'm anal-retentive.
I'm paranoid.
I'm a fucking nerd.
No one gets me.
No one likes me.
Et cetera, et cetera.
Passive as always.
It seems like I've always been this way.