Self-Loathing

There was a movie I saw once (or a billion times) called Before Sunrise. Ethan Hawke's character Jesse has a line where he talks about why so many people hate themselves.

"Seriously, it's just that they are sick to death of being around themselves," he says in a night-long conversation with cool Frenchwoman Julie Delpy.

I get this. Jesse's absolutely right. I have just as many neurotic tendencies as anyone, maybe more. I liken myself to those anxiety-ridden dogs that are brought to their adopted homes for the first time and, like, spend all night curled up in the corner because HOLY SHIT THERE'S FOOD. Not that I'm comparing myself to an abused animal or anything - I just freak out at almost anything that seems vaguely normal. Ask me to do something vaguely weird, though, and it's like I'm as calm as Crater Lake. What's that even about? But yeah, these dogs. They can't hate themselves like us humans can. See, eventually they even out. They nap on your couch and hang out with you. They have no life outside of sleeping, running and eating and you are just so envious of them for that. Then you hate yourself because you can't be a dog.

It's this funny thing about self-loathing. I think it stems out of comparing yourself to others, even dogs. There was a comedian or actor once who talked about how everyone hated their early 20s. It's just that no one knew it then, and we all thought that we were flailing alone in this pit of despair and expensive poutine. The grown-ups didn't know it then. Us early 20-somethings? We won't realize it 'til later, when all of our money is spent on rum and we're sitting alone on a loveseat with our knees to our noses.

So yes. This concept of feeling alone. You look and you look and you look at the shiny Facebook faces smiling back at you. This party or that party. You're thinking - why don't I go out and have fun with my fun friends as well? And then you remember that you hate that. And then you feel abnormal for not wanting to stand in a room of sweaty people, looking around you to see if anyone is having any fun. We're so bored of ourselves.

It's things like this that have become worse with Twitter and Tumblr and instagram and all that shit. There's less of a filter in these places, so then you find yourself in your bathrobe on a Saturday morning scrolling through blog posts of friends past, inwardly weeping because you have no more cashews left. Not that I've ever done that or anything.

I don't know what's happening anymore. I think this is coming from this influx of super pretty party people pictures being posted online, and me just wanting something simple instead. Like more sleep or for more rain to come so that grass can be green.

Anyways, here's my latest happy song. Get listening.