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Complimenting The Cynic

February 26, 2013

Am I the only one that can’t take a compliment? Even before I went tits up in 2007 I couldn’t take praise or compliments. When I was in high school I dyed my hair multiple colors and got compliments for it but in my heart of hearts I never believed it–I never believed them. I got an award for standing in front of the Baltimore County school board and giving a slight speech and I felt good for half a second before feeling like a fraud and pointing out just why I did not deserve it.

I know this all goes back to my shame about who I am and what I am, I know all of this but I still have kind of accepted it and let it tear me down to the point that I feel like a self-parody some days. I put on the smile for my friends. I dance. I say positive things, but in the darkness of this oppressively cold house in this winter that seems to drag on forever that small voice whispers to me, ‘You’re a fraud.’ Its silken words dripping with disgust and believe it. I feel it and transform as a result. In the dark all things grow wild and without abandon.

So what to do…what to do. Pretending it doesn’t exist doesn’t work because it’s me and I am it (yay worked in cliché). The best I can do is to fight. But it seeps in when I’m tired and I feel weepy. I guess the best I can do is a grand bargain, a compromise if you will. I promise not to beat the crap out of my fpsyche and I need to acknowledge that that side of me exists and no matter how much I fight it I am going to feel that niggling sensation of unworthiness. Accept it. Embrace it and eventually kill the fucker and drop its body off a bridge.

Heh…sorry for the violent imagery. When talking about an aspect of myself it’s easier to picture it as some sort of monster that needs destroying. Back to compliments: yeah…I’m really bad at praise, as you can see, but I appreciate it when I receive it. At least for a moment. I originally called this place, ‘Tales of a man with no ego,’ but (if you’ve been reading) I have a fraction of one. It’s just not very visible. And I hate talking about myself in conversations. So I do that stuff here. Much to someone’s chagrin, maybe.

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