you have this idea in your head that the only time you’re worthy of being loved is when you’re at your best. you’re still worthy of being loved when you’re at your lowest. you’re still worthy of being loved when you don’t want to go on anymore. you are still worthy of being loved even when you don’t love yourself. you are a human and therefore always worthy of being loved and don’t you fool yourself into thinking otherwise.
Me, a Hawaiian: “While Hawai’i had a queen we were at the forefront of innovation, technological advancement, and international alliances. All the way up until the “democratic” government of the US illegally arrested her in her own palace and threatened to kill her and massacre her people unless she signed her country over to them. I’d like to have a queen who cares more about her peoples lives than her power again. Also, fuck Trump.”
My new meds make my skin throw a fit. It’s not terribly bad, just a few things here and there, but it’s bumming me out because I’ve never really had too many run-ins with acne.
My four-year-old sister, however, is under the impression that it’s just “3D freckles”, and that they look very, very pretty. She wants all of my freckles to “pop out”, especially the ones across my nose; they’re her favourite.
And it puts me in this weird position where I can’t say, “No, this is acne, and it’s bad,” because I don’t want to teach her that it’s a bad to have unclear skin, you know?
Because the more I think about interactions I have with children, the more I realise that children will consistently compliment “flaws” until they’ve been taught not to.
Like, a kid at the library, whose sister has vitiligo, saw my scars once and suggested that his sister and I should be cats for Halloween, since I have “tabby skin” and she has “calico skin”. “I can be a black cat,” he immediately added. “It’s not AS cool, but they’re the spookiest.”
When I started losing weight, my little brother immediately demanded that I gain it back, because I wasn’t as comfortable to cuddle with anymore.
And my other little sister always wants to wear her paint-stained clothes to school so that “everyone can tell [she’s] an artist”.
I don’t know. I guess talking to little kids just reminds me that all of this superficial shit we worry about really is 100% made up.
fadeslikewhispers 