A Love Affair With Myself


I don’t take anything personally. I am a secondary character in other people’s stories. I know that whatever people say about me is just a projection of their image of me. It has nothing to do with me. ~ Don Miguel Ruiz

I've been preoccupied lately. For most of the last year I forgot me and poured my boundless river of bright red and bloody love to the ones around me. I gave it all way. I threw it all away. If I want to be worthwhile in that effort, this little me must come first. So I have avowed to myself to give all of that stuff to me.

Who better? Why not? How? Love letters? Gifts? Who knows. Here is this first go. Loving my image. Taking myself less seriously. Knowing, knowing, knowing and learning, learning, learning that all that I've hurt I've beaten myself up with over the years is for naught. I am nothing special. I am infinitely special. What matters most is that I treat myself with the love I give to friends, to lovers, to everyone but myself. So here's me. Here's this.

I affirm that this year, in the best way, I will fall truly, madly, deeply in love with my very own self.

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