Self-loathing, or I wish I were anybody else but me

Self-loathing has become such a part of my identity that it’s hard to part with it. I have my good days, like when I’m feeling that everything is awesome and I can conquer the world. Still, more often than not, I have my bad days, when the world threatens to crush my spirits.
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“Not good enough” would be three words I’d use to describe myself. Not smart enough, not pretty enough, not skinny enough, not competent enough, not rich enough, not interesting enough… My vocabulary is rife with words that express disgust over who I am. I could go on and on telling you how little I think of myself.
Of course, the people who matter would beg to differ. They’re the ones who see the good in me and do their best to make sure I see it, too. But what do you do when it doesn’t work? When you can’t love yourself, how do you believe the ones who love you just as you are? 
Loving myself is the hardest thing, because I know myself too well. I know all the imperfections, the flaws, the dark secrets. There’s no escaping the voices in my head that say those three dreaded words: “Not good enough”, that echoes well into the night and haunts me in the mornings. Short of keeping myself numb with substance abuse (NO), there’s no switching these voices off.

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