We’re all self-conscious.

People need to stop acting like insecurity is relative. Let’s be honest, Kanye West had it right. We’re all insecure, he’s just the first to admit it. And I’m the second. But you didn’t hear him, though, so I have a few more things to say.

Today, as I sat by my lonesome, watching music videos and practicing this “self-love,” “I enjoy my own company thing,” I started singing. The next few thoughts out my head were, “Oh, shit. What does that sound like? Oh, noooo. My voice is so high-pitched even when I sing. Oh, shiiiiiiiiiit.” And then, I started feeding myself positive thoughts because I’m not new to this, and I’m both emotional and practical.

Then, I logged into Instagram. Last week, I found a poet on there, and yesterday I pre-ordered her book – that’s how awesome she is (@komalesque for the curious). Then, I watched a video on her page that is so relatable it makes my jaw hurt. The very next picture was of her cringing. “Omg what am I even doing..*mini existential crisis*” 

I. Get. It.

Dare I even list the stupendous list of things I give myself grief about on a daily basis?

My voice.
Underye circles.
Career progression.
Being a good pet mom.
Being a good daughter.
Not becoming a teenage millionaire.
The way my gums show when I smile.
My long arms.
My long second toes.
Ugh. The outie.

There’s always someone who’s got it better than you. I have a friend whose hair makes men stop and stare. I have a friend who travels to three new countries a month. I have a friend who knows exactly how to turn her head to get the perfect picture. 

And while I know that others’ greatness doesn’t dim my shine, it does make me keenly aware of my shortcomings. The things you admire in others (happiness, confidence, talent, beauty) tend to become the things you critique in yourself. It’s not a bad thing, it’s just a real thing.

I know I said insecurity isn’t relative, but the more I think about it, it kinda is. Insecurity is relative to what’s around you. I can feel secure as heck in a crowd of people who have it worse than me. Lucky for us, the internet provides 24/7 access to the best of everyone’s lives. Whomp whomp.

We can do this though. We can all be our genuine, self-conscious selves while acknowledging that everything we are is gorgeous as fuck in its own way. That Instagram poet from earlier? I forgot to mention the best of what she shared. After questioning everything she ended with a simple reminder, “Wait. I enjoyed creating it so that’s all that matters.”

I’ll try to remember that.

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