Worthy
Worthy of flowers
Life deprived of beauty is not worthy of being called human.
Luis Barragan
Three psychics so far have been wrong about my future but accurate about my inner world.
“You are horrid to yourself,” a clairvoyant said. “If you walked beside yourself, saying aloud the terrible things you say in secret, you would turn around and punch you.”
That inner stalker is the naysayer, the critic. She says a lot of things, but really only one.
‘No matter how you try, you are not worthy of good things.’
She makes compliments ring hollow. She says I am not the person I want to be. She pushes me to give my all but get nothing in return.
It’s sabotage. It makes success and failure feel the same – not quite real.
The nice things other people say or do can’t win against her. Their care is ephemeral if I don’t care for myself.
It’s way past time I punched that bitch. It’s time for her to grow a heart.
The next 100 days will be full of kindness. They are small kindnesses, like going to bed early and getting a haircut. They are tough loves like seeing the dentist and saving money each pay. They’re all things that mean something to me.
I begin by being worthy of flowers.
Muchness 
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