A lot of people don’t think I’m the type of guy to get angry.  Jealous?  Sure.  Indecisive?  Sure.  Angry?  Nevah!

And, you know, I can see where this comes from.  I’m definitely not the type to frequently show my anger.  I hate it sometimes.  Truly hate it.  But, well, I’m don’t like hurting other people’s feelings.  I know it’s silly and, you know, I think there’s more than just a small grain of truth in the saying, “The only person that can hurt you is yourself”.

But that still doesn’t stop me from restraining my emotions.  Putting a leash on them and calling it emotional-sensibility — or something.  But I shouldn’t.  I know I shouldn’t.  As the late Carl Rogers said, fully functioning people don’t self-censor their experiences.  And while ‘fully functioning’ does make people sound like computers, it does seem to hold itself quite well.  At least in my eyes it does.

But, you know, I think a lot of the reason why I don’t show my anger is not because I’m angry at someone else but really I’m angry at myself.

And these are the exact words, every time, that come through when I’m so self-hating: “Why aren’t YOU that good.”

It’s like there’s another personality living in my head — at least most times in the day — saying this.  Some other entity blaring that statement.  Not a question, a statement.  Branding me with the red-hot iron each time with the word ‘failure’.   I honestly can’t tell you when it started or why it exists.  It just does.  It corrodes me down, statement by statement, drop by drop.

And, you know, I see it in everything.  In so many, many people.  I find it physically uncomfortable to watch any program that contains male models without some sort of saving-grace-of-a-quality which I can criticise them for.

What’s worse is that instead of dealing with my obvious low self-worth, I take it out on other people.  People who I could know or learn from.  Instead, I get out the gasoline and mark a line so that if a bridge should ever be built between me and any other person that sparks this self-hate response, I can quickly burn the bridge back into nothingness.  I hate it.  I need it.  Without this now almost-unconscious act of defending myself from people who would normally make me feel massively inferior, I’d actually have to face my self-hate.

And we can’t have that now, can we?

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I’m only slightly sorry that my first true post on this self-hosted shindig should be a slightly depressing one.  However, I’d rather it be this post than something superficial.  A blog filled with emotion, depth and windows into my life, to me, is a blog to be proud of.