//the new //the old
//and
me //connections //if
you're leaving // the honours
//the usual
One night, the night that I let my mother see me cry over my ex-boyfriend, my mother told me that we should despise ourselves. It's because we're imperfect, and we shouldn't love to be imperfect. I told her that I had that down. But I can't help but think about how sad it is, and I'm really trying to think happy thoughts--end up talking about silver linings and whatnot. But how can this not seem hopeless? We hate ourselves because we are imperfect. The hate inspires us to be better. But, while we may be better than before, we're still imperfect. So will still hate ourselves. It makes me sad to think that I will spend the rest of my life hating me. I guess you have to believe in Heaven to not be sad about this stuff. You can't be imperfect in Heaven. Heaven is perfect. Heaven is perfect. And I believe it's there, but I'm still sad.