I Want to Be One of those Magical People

I have a pretty vicious inner critic.

I’ve written about him before, mostly about how he relates to my writing. But my inner critic is so much more than that. He’s a little devil, perpetually on my shoulder, reminding me about everything that’s wrong with me.

I constantly play the comparison game. I know that I’m not supposed to, that it’s bad for my mental health, that people’s lives aren’t as perfect as they look. Whatever. But there’s a part of me that recognizes that comparison is a valuable tool for self-critique. Most of the universe falls into a bell curve, and my life should be fairly identical to a whole lot of other people’s. That’s just how the universe and statistics works. I should be roughly similar to other people.

And I’m not. I am so different from so many other people that it makes me question whether or not I’m truly human, truly sane, truly anything.

Sometimes, people talk about their friends who peaked during high school; I’m pretty sure I peaked during middle school. I have so much trouble trying to do basic things. Managing money is a nightmare, trying to deal with paperwork and other human beings is a challenge. I’m afraid, all of the time, of everything. I overthink interactions with people that I’m close to. I suck at making friends, and when I do make connections with…