A Love/Hate Relationship With Myself

I was lying in my bed tonight and thinking of what I am, what I see myself to be, and what I wish I was. I was thinking about the ugliness of myself and the things that make me believe my existence to be something of benefit and worth admiration.

I like that I can feel. That I can experience emotions and embrace them and, for the most part, not be bothered by having that quality. I hate that I’m emotionally frail, that I break from the smallest of slights and collapse in on myself from outright rejection.

I admire that I’m inquisitive. I love to learn about things, sometimes to the point of absurdity. I love to share what I know. But I’m also overly analytical. I’m paranoid and insecure, constantly asking myself what my peers really think of me. I read into every little gesture, every facial expression, every word and how it is spoken.

I love creativity and artistry. I love that I write and I believe that words are beautiful and can communicate beautiful things. I love that I can sing (somewhat) and that I’m in touch with the subtleties of something as simple as a raised note and how it can make me feel closer to the musicians and composers. But I’m an arrogant and pompous ass. I retreat into my mind and cut down others’ tastes and I’m overly critical of my own attempts at artistic ventures. So often I find myself unable to complete projects and it’s frustrating.

I am a Romantic at heart and it pleases me to be such. I’m an idealist with the odd dichotomy of being, in my friend’s words, “a raging pessimist”. I like grandiose expressions of love. I’ve never stood outside a girl’s house with a boom box playing, but I’d like to do it if given the chance. When we were still together, I would write letters to my girlfriend even though I had just gotten off the phone with her after a six hour conversation. We both loved it and I miss being able to do that for her. It’s usually looked on as rather quaint and saccharine and almost always followed up by an eye roll and a snicker, which is unfortunate. There’s this opposition of putting the one you love on a pedestal, which I don’t think that I’ll ever understand. If both parties are doing it, then they’re never really on uneven footing. You love someone with the intention of enriching their lives, not focusing on your own. Still, I can look at the ridiculousness of my gestures and have a good laugh about it.

I appreciate that I’m an introspective person and not afraid to laugh at myself or admit to my mistakes and/or overall incompetence. I cope with self-deprecating humor and a shrug of the shoulders. I’m an eccentric individual and there’s not much that I can do to escape that description. I like it, though. I relate well to quirky people and find those traits to be endearing. I fear that it ends up coming off as pretentious, though, which goes back to my sense of insecurity. In my introspection I’m constantly making excuses for myself and not wanting to take responsibility in certain matters. I had put a lot of blame on my first girlfriend for our break-up. It was virtually all my fault and I really had no business taking my pain out on her. She didn’t deserve it. At times, regrettably, I’m harshly judgmental. I made that mistake recently and it made me feel like garbage. Thankfully, I’m not like that on a regular basis.

I hate not being able to simply speak and say what I’m feeling or thinking because I’m constantly stumbling and stuttering and coming across as inarticulate. I want to connect with people, but I can never seem to form or keep stable my relationships or friendships because I can’t express myself adequately enough. I find myself always afraid to voice an opinion when so often I’m put in a place where I’m surrounded by people of staunchly differing views.

But the thing I prize the most, the thing I that I could never find fault in myself, is my need to dignify and praise those around me and show them compassion. To compliment, to see and vocalize the things that make them so amazing to me but that they can’t or won’t be willing to admit to themselves. For some people, it makes them crazy and, at times, suspicious. I find joy (and, in some cases, amusement) in trying to get through their thick skulls that they are beautiful, that they mean the world to me and to others and that I wish so deeply that they could see themselves through my own eyes just so that they wouldn’t hurt or think less of themselves anymore. I cry for these people because I’ve known that pain for so long and the thought of those I care about having to bear that burden…it weighs on my heart. It’s a lonely thing and I don’t want them to be alone.

I’m not really sure why I decided to post this on here. Maybe I just needed to openly acknowledge that I have an on-going love/hate relationship with Logan T. Hoffman. He really is a great guy and a pleasant fellow that pisses me off fairly regularly. But still, he isn’t *that* bad a guy. I have a hard time admitting it, but I do believe it to be true. And hopefully one day, many others will share that sentiment. 

Logan Travis Hoffman
3-30-2014