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tenshinoakuma) wrote2008-05-06 10:07 am
tenshinoakuma) wrote2008-05-06 10:07 am
Entry tags:
I don't say this enough, but just...
It seems like such a short time ago that I was questioning my own self worth on my dA journal, wondering if I suddenly disappeared, would anyone miss me?
There are characters in stories who often go through a similar situation, usually those who believe they are a failure in life. Usually, there will be someone who will tell them, no, you’re not a failure, you can do things other people can’t, and then everything from then on is good and happy.
Stories don’t quite bring out how difficult it is to move past these negative feelings of self-worth, especially when no one seems to know.
People would tell me I was smart, people would tell me I was talented, people would tell me I could draw and write very well, but despite all this, I used to feel that my life wasn’t worth anything. In worse days, I used to feel that if I had never existed, everything would have turned out better for all the people I came in contact with.
I am sure almost everyone questions their own self worth at points (often low ones) in their lives, but it was always there in some sub-conscious level for me. As a snotty little kid, I did well in everything because I wanted to prove I was better than everyone else. In high school, I got lazy because I kept on thinking, there’s always someone that can do whatever I do well better. At some point, I started wondering what my purpose was here, if everyone is better than I am at everything? Will anyone remember me if I suddenly dropped dead and died?
I started being weird because I wanted people to remember me. But stories kept telling me there was no point in life because no one’s going to remember decades, centuries, millennia down the track. Too bad I believed them.
It wasn’t until recently, when a friend sent me a bracelet and a card for my birthday (which no longer fell during the school year) that I had forgotten, and another two sent me birthday messages that I realised that people do remember me, the people do truly feel I’m important to them.
I don’t think they realise how much this simple sign of friendship has affected me.
I dug through some old Christmas cards I had received the previous year and started crying because they all had heartfelt messages in them that I never really understood before now.
It’s kind of funny that I’ve only just started noticing all the signs, the words, the gestures my friends make to tell me that I mean something to them.
They’ve said they’ll miss me when we part ways to go to uni, that it’ll seem boring without me.
They’ve told me that if they had known that person yelling the Batman song while running down the corridor with a towel-cape was me, they wouldn’t be friends with me now, but I still do these things and we’re still friends.
They’ve told me they use my writing as inspiration when I never thought there would be people who will genuinely enjoy my writing.
They’ve told me they still have the pictures I drew for them so long ago when I didn’t think they were worth keeping.
They’ve put a dedication to me on personal websites even though I think I didn’t do all that much.
There have been so many dream-like moments, moments I’ve just felt so much joy because I feel like I’m worth something now. I knew my family loved me unconditionally but, now I know, and I know that it’s not just my family, but my friends and the people I meet in passing whose lives I touch.
I might think I won’t be remembered, but I know that I’m making some kind of difference to the people around me, not just friends and family, but to those people I never get to meet more than once as well.
It’s nice feeling, knowing your life is important.
There are characters in stories who often go through a similar situation, usually those who believe they are a failure in life. Usually, there will be someone who will tell them, no, you’re not a failure, you can do things other people can’t, and then everything from then on is good and happy.
Stories don’t quite bring out how difficult it is to move past these negative feelings of self-worth, especially when no one seems to know.
People would tell me I was smart, people would tell me I was talented, people would tell me I could draw and write very well, but despite all this, I used to feel that my life wasn’t worth anything. In worse days, I used to feel that if I had never existed, everything would have turned out better for all the people I came in contact with.
I am sure almost everyone questions their own self worth at points (often low ones) in their lives, but it was always there in some sub-conscious level for me. As a snotty little kid, I did well in everything because I wanted to prove I was better than everyone else. In high school, I got lazy because I kept on thinking, there’s always someone that can do whatever I do well better. At some point, I started wondering what my purpose was here, if everyone is better than I am at everything? Will anyone remember me if I suddenly dropped dead and died?
I started being weird because I wanted people to remember me. But stories kept telling me there was no point in life because no one’s going to remember decades, centuries, millennia down the track. Too bad I believed them.
It wasn’t until recently, when a friend sent me a bracelet and a card for my birthday (which no longer fell during the school year) that I had forgotten, and another two sent me birthday messages that I realised that people do remember me, the people do truly feel I’m important to them.
I don’t think they realise how much this simple sign of friendship has affected me.
I dug through some old Christmas cards I had received the previous year and started crying because they all had heartfelt messages in them that I never really understood before now.
It’s kind of funny that I’ve only just started noticing all the signs, the words, the gestures my friends make to tell me that I mean something to them.
They’ve said they’ll miss me when we part ways to go to uni, that it’ll seem boring without me.
They’ve told me that if they had known that person yelling the Batman song while running down the corridor with a towel-cape was me, they wouldn’t be friends with me now, but I still do these things and we’re still friends.
They’ve told me they use my writing as inspiration when I never thought there would be people who will genuinely enjoy my writing.
They’ve told me they still have the pictures I drew for them so long ago when I didn’t think they were worth keeping.
They’ve put a dedication to me on personal websites even though I think I didn’t do all that much.
There have been so many dream-like moments, moments I’ve just felt so much joy because I feel like I’m worth something now. I knew my family loved me unconditionally but, now I know, and I know that it’s not just my family, but my friends and the people I meet in passing whose lives I touch.
I might think I won’t be remembered, but I know that I’m making some kind of difference to the people around me, not just friends and family, but to those people I never get to meet more than once as well.
It’s nice feeling, knowing your life is important.