purpleninja

At this time of year, coming up to a month of that highly anti-climactic event we call new year, people are trying to change.

Cigarette companies are left gasping for air as their profits plumet, gyms are bursting at the seams with people who, after christmas, were bursting at their seams, wondering exactely why it is they can't fit into that jumpsuit they wore as a toddler, foreign language classes record their highest intake of students and debts are being paid off, well, sort of.

This year I made pretty much the same resolution I make every year. Get healthy, have fun.

So far, so good, but have you ever wondered how utterly pointless all this is?

Of course you have. Because by March it's all forgotten. You reach for the second slice of mudcake just before you light another one and wonder what "ciao" meant again.

So, this year I've decided, only 18 days late, to make another resolution. One of acceptance.

Not to accept my mothers fawning, my fathers drinking, my brothers loud music but to accept myself.

It's ok, I'm not about to go bush and look in places I shouldn't with small mirrors, I just mean, what's all the fuss about? Why bother changing? Physically, sure, each to her/his own, go to the gym, go for a walk, eat better it really is good for you but what about emotionally.

For the last year or so I kick myself every time I cry, I feel like a burden, I hate myself because I feel 10 different emotions all before lighting my first cigarette of the day.

We all fall prey to comparing ourselves to others. Not just because they're in better shape, have nicer stuff, get lots of sex. But also because of how they feel. "Why is she so happy", "why isn't he a fucking emotional mess that accidentally blended their last pair of socks out of frustration just because they couldn't find their favourite necklace".

We adore other people, look up to them, practically nominate them for canonisation,but why? Fucking self fucking esteem.

I had a really good chat to a friend today. I asked him for the 100th time, while in tears after having yelled at him for some foolish reason why he bothers putting up with me. After telling me to get fucked he gave it some thought and said:

"I like it when your like this, at least we're getting to the nitty gritty. At least your honest. You are so hopeless at hiding your emotion and that's why I like you. I love the fact you feel more emotions in a day than most people feel in a week. If I didn't I wouldn't bother, would I?"

The little cunt was right of course. But it doesn't really matter what he thinks, the point is, what do I think?

I think I'm an emotional wreck of course, but by whose standards? Always someone elses. Sure some people might see me as a burden, but the people who count don't, so why am I such a burden to myself?

Today, my new years resolution is to accept myself for who I am. If I feel like crying I will fucking cry, alright? Got a problem with that? Here's a dollar. Call someone who cares.