Hello, I’m an asshole. They say the first step to growth and self-discovery is acknowledging that you have a problem if you have one. And I do.
Hello, my name is Sarah, and I’m an asshole.
It’s important to me that you know that I have a lot of neat things going on in my life. Specifically that I’m interesting. I go interesting places and think interesting things. I make sure there’s regularly scheduled proof of it.
I promise I’m listening to you talk, but it’s more present to me how my life is relatable to whatever you’re saying. I’ll mention it casually. You’re thinking of starting a bakery, you say? I love baking.
You’re a member of my fan club. I’m making sure of it. I’m interesting. See above.
I’m constantly really nice to you, but for some reason you leave feeling belittled and/or inadequate. I’m really not trying to make you feel that way; it’s genuinely bamboozling to me. It’s also the number-one cause of my friendships ending.
I see that you’re working out. It’s inspiring me to work out. Now I work out. In fact, come to think of it, I need to up my work out game. You see it as competitive, and for all I know you might be right.
I have ambitions, great dreams, exotic creative lands to visit. It’s all very important. What was your mom’s name again? I forget.
You feel like a side character. You feel inadequate. You feel like I’m not paying enough attention. I feel awful and ashamed, and I also have no idea how to be different. I want you to be sure that you’re important to me, but now you’re wondering if it’s worth it after all.
But remember: I’m quirky. I’m interesting. Also, I think you’re wonderful and charming. Also, I’m interesting.
These are all ways that I’m ashamed to admit that I am. Are you these ways, too? Are most people these ways? Are very few people these ways? Am I one asshole in an open sea, or an asshole in a sea of assholes?
Either way, it’s shitty.