I was born with bad self esteem. I didn’t think the other babies passing by in their strollers liked me. My first day of Pre-school, I hid under the table while the other kids participated in circle time. My teacher was baffled. I didn’t come out the whole day. When she finally talked me into joining the class, a little boy stabbed me in the cheek with a stubby pencil. Do you see how these things work?
I should have stayed under the table.
I still have that niggling self doubt that crops it’s ugly head when I am about to do something I think is totally awesome. That inner voice points out every flaw, real or imaginary. Maybe its the fear of being shanked again with lead. You never really get over something like that.
I’ve been getting better though, finally accepting with certainty that this is a part of my genetic makeup. Sometimes, it even works in my favor. But I will never be one of those self confident, arrogant people who think their shit smells like freshly baked cinnamon rolls. It’s not all about looks, either. Some of the ugliest people I know have high opinions of themselves. Where does it come from?
I don’t really feel comfy when others prattle on about how fucking awesome I am. I appreciate the compliment, but I will probably disagree with you. Would I rather be humble or a pretentious asshole? That can be a big turn off, especially for me. I don’t like people who have an over inflated sense of self.
People who respond like, “Yeah, I am rather spectacular, mostly because I refer to myself in the third person.”
Example – Merbear is the bomb shit.
I suppose my point is this: There is a fine line between having a healthy self esteem and being conceited. I strive to find a place in the middle.