From the very beginning you are being told to compare yourself with others. This is the greatest disease; it is like a cancer that goes on destroying your very soul because each individual is unique, and comparison is not possible.
When it comes to being gentle, start with yourself. Don’t get upset with your imperfections. Being disappointed by failure is understandable, but it shouldn’t turn into bitterness or spite directed at yourself. It’s a great mistake——because it leads nowhere—to get angry because you are angry, upset at being upset, disappointed because you are disappointed.
I should’ve known we were a mess to begin with. The first night we tumbled into your house, you were drunk and I was intoxicated just by being next to you. You pushed me onto your bed and I wanted you to rip my clothes off, and you were worried about going too fast and too rough. I remember laughing and proceeded to let you take your shirt off as I came undone. Your bed was a mess. I was a mess. And you woke up with a loud headache that couldn’t be fixed by ibuprofen.
We were a wild match, like a fish out of water trying to survive out of our elements. We broke things we couldn’t fix, started fires we couldn’t put out, just to be washed away by the sound of the alarm waking us up right in time for reality. Darling that was how we burned out. We can’t both be fire; we can only handle so many scars before it becomes too much. Maybe I was too much. Or maybe you weren’t enough. I may have been a mess, but at at least I owned a mop. You left trails of dirt whenever you walked in the house.