In honor of the upcoming holiday of Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year, which gives all students at CUNY colleges random vacation days! (You’re welcome btw.) This is Throwback-Throwback Thursday post, because, as it says in the post below, while it was initially posted on Facebook on December 28th 2010, it was written about 4 or 5 years before that.
I wrote this in tenth grade, but — fortunately or unfortunately — it’s always relevant.
I hate this time of year.
It’s the time when everyone wants you to look inside yourself, figure out what’s wrong with you, and start trying to change it.
Some people laugh it off and joke about it, but it’s only a little too obvious that they’re just afraid of what they’ll find if they do look.
I’m not afraid. I know what’s in there. I know exactly what’s in there. I’ve been looking straight inside myself for as long as I can remember. That’s my problem.
By the time I reached fifth grade, I knew every single thing that was wrong with me. I knew exactly what kind of person I wanted to be and what I needed to change, and I had it all mapped out in my head.
And I failed. Miserably. Time after time after time. And I hated myself for it.
I’m selfish. I’m obnoxious. I’m sarcastic. I’m insensitive.
And don’t I know it.
But eventually it dawned on me, through my self-hatred, that I have friends surrounding me. I know they’re all better than I am, I’ve known it for years.
But they like me anyway. They don’t just put up with me. They actually like me.
And that got me thinking: I’m bad, but I’m not that bad. Maybe I’m not a total loss.
I’ve spent the past year learning to like myself. It’s been one of the best years of my life.
I’m intelligent. I can write. I’m pretty. I can make people laugh.
But my God, do I hate this time of year.