#4 The Self That Cannot Be Its Own Ally

I am disgusted with myself for having no talent.
I am disgusted with myself for being nobody.

The path I have taken until now,
all feels like a waste.

On days like that,
I must treat myself with care.

I, at the very least,
must be my own ally.

Wait.

Since when?

Since when did I stop being my own ally?

Was it since the bullying that day?

Did I start hating myself because I convinced myself that the victim was to blame,
convinced myself that I was bullied because I was bad,
and ended up hating who I am?

Since then, I haven't been able to like myself.
Rather than feeling like blaming the other person,
rather than feeling like asking why it had to be me,
I told myself it was my fault,
and by settling it that way, everything made sense.

Thinking about it now,
I wanted an adult to tell me that wasn't true,
to tell me that no matter the reason,
the problem lies with the bully,
and to comfort me.

I wanted an absolute ally.

Did I even have any self-esteem to begin with?
No, I did. I must have.
The me back then,
loved reading aloud and giving presentations,
and being called on by the teacher in class,
I felt no anxiety at all.

My grades were excellent,
I had plenty of friends,
and I lived a life without any hardships.

And yet, with just that one instance of bullying,
everything came to an end.

Poor me.

Because of the bullying,
I have come to understand people's feelings with painful clarity.

I was convinced that it was a positive thing.
But because of that, I am now a social misfit.

After all, bullying,
it would have been better if it never existed.



It would have been far better to just continue working,
without really understanding the pain of others.

Saving money that way,
and becoming happy,
that surely would have been better.

I was trying to justify the bullying.
I was trying to say that because of the bullying,
I have this sensitive self I have now,
and that I like who I am now.

That's completely wrong.
I don't actually like who I am now, do I?

It is certain that it would be easier to live
if I were absolutely insensitive.

Why did I have to be bullied?
Why was it me?

I don't need this sensitivity.

I would pay money
to obtain insensitivity.

There are people who affirm who I am now.
I have friends. I have a boyfriend.

Surely, if I weren't this sensitive version of myself,
I wouldn't have met them.

But when the end of my life comes,
unless it is a life where I can say,
"This was good, this was the right way,"
I cannot affirm who I am now.

On the day my life ends,
will a day come when I can say,
that I am glad I was this kind of person?

Until that day,
will I be unable to be my own ally?

That is also a pity.

The fact that I was able to think about becoming my own ally like this,
and write this article,
is something I want to believe is the first step.

I want to be able to say it with pride someday.

That I am my own best ally.

-Dare-