“But you are gazing at me the way God gazed at Adam and I am embarrassed by your look of love and possession and pride. I want to go now and cover myself with fig leaves. It’s a sin this not being ready, this not being up to it.”
– Jeanette Winterson, Written On The Body
“You sound like your mother.” – He said it to hurt me. He means the worst parts of her. A double edged insult, I can never be the best parts of my parents. I am somehow the worst halves of two amazing people.
“You drink like your father.” – My rebuttal is weak. His father doesn’t drink. But mine does. Freud was right to a degree, I am dating my father.
“You aren’t her.” – This should be a compliment but it isn’t. He loved her, he had a child with her. I’m the phase that comes after all the good times have passed.
“You aren’t him.” – This isn’t a compliment. It isn’t intended as one either. I am not with the person I love and I know this everytime we celebrate an anniversary.
“You are amazing.” – My insecurities see it as sarcasm. How could I ever be this unattainable concept that I am yet to fathom. But then again maybe it’s real and I am over thinking it like I usually do.
“I can’t do this.” – how I always end it. I am weary of this version of myself. It feels fake. I am searching for “real” yet another concept I am yet to attain.