Drunk me: a letter to sober me

dear sober me

hey, you think you hate yourself? it gets a whole lot worse.

you make people feel bad for you and then they actually try to make you feel better. you know, because they care about you. psych. no one cares about you and you’d better learn and internalise that now, because it will never change. you’re only as good as the job you do. which means you’re not good. because all you do is shit that other people told you to do. you’re not good at anything. you pretend to be so that people like you. and when they don’t like you that’s proof that you’re always shitty anyway.

sincerely

drunk me

————

dear drunk me

hey, maybe stop drinking.

i don’t understand why, but people do legitimately care about me. and you. because we’re two parts of a whole. another thing i don’t understand is how you (i) can defend others with such passion, yet none of that passion shows when you’re attacking yourself. you are good at your job. yes, you do shit that other people told you to do, but there are intangibles. you’re very rarely late. you try to be as prepared as possible. you do your best to radiate positive energy, even when you’re feeling shitty. these aren’t things capitalism will pay you for, but they’re proof that you’re not the ogre you think you are.

your harshest critic will always be yourself, because you see everything, not just the things other people see. and they don’t see everything not because they aren’t looking but because it takes time to know everything. yes, that means you know the worst parts of yourself in a way that possibly no one else will; but that also means that because you get caught up on those parts, you tend to miss the parts that others notice, the ones that make them love you. it’s important to be self-aware and self-critical, but don’t let that keep you from being confident in yourself and in your identity. no one is perfect. you’re learning and growing. yes, you fuck up. everyone does that. you’ll be okay.

sincerely

sober me