Low Self-esteem

Knowing that you just don’t cut it.

Low self-esteem is looking at yourself in the mirror, noticing the flaws that you can’t stomach rather than the things others compliment.

Low self-esteem is a girl telling you you’re handsome, and not being able to believe her because no matter how you smile in the mirror, no matter what angle you take the picture from, you know you’re still ugly, unimportant, you.

Low self-esteem is being hurt by the playful jabs of friends because even though you know they’re joking, the beat down your self-worth took in elementary school won’t let you shake the feeling they’re at least somewhat right.

Low self-esteem is masking how little you think of yourself through self-deprecating humor so others don’t pick up on how insecure you really are and tear you apart for their own amusement. Not that that ever stopped them before.

Low self-esteem is not being able to take compliments because they make you uncomfortable and you feel undeserving.

Low self-esteem is the little boy who hit himself and cried, calling himself fat and stupid and who spent days hating himself for no reason other than he happened to be, well, himself.

Low self-esteem is being fragile, even on your best days. Being able to be broken down by a few careless words from the wrong person, even when you feel your best.

Low self-esteem is looking at your friends’ accomplishments and being jealous because you’re shitty and if you were half as awesome as they are, you could probably learn to like yourself.

I know what it’s like to have low self-esteem because I was that chubby boy, hitting himself and crying to his mom because he hated who he was. I was the kid for whom benign teasing could cut like a knife. I was the guy who couldn’t believe a girl could see anything in him. I was the guy who used self-deprecating humor to mask how little he truly thought of himself. I was the guy who couldn’t find anything to like when he looked in the mirror. I was the guy who bore jealousy towards his friends and classmates for being better liked, for being more successful, more attractive, more… whatever.

And you know what? Sometimes, like tonight, I still am. The only difference is now, I can write about it.