Stop Telling Me I Am Wrong

Of all the nerve in the world.
You have the audacity to think
That you, of all of the creatures on the face of the rock
Are the most horrid thing living under the most horrid conditions.
How conceited and arrogant can you possibly be?
If anything, you most certainly have a big ego
And perhaps a pretty piss poor attitude
But even in both cases
You are far from the worst.
And why are you so hard on yourself?
You are so willing to forgive everyone’s indiscretions
Accidents, mishaps, shortcomings and the like
And your reasoning for this is that they
Are only human.
Well, you don’t fall into that category?
Of all the damn nerve in the whole damn world.
You have the gaul to look at yourself in the mirror
And be sad and ungrateful for what you see
As if anyone else who isn’t feeling they could be better
Isn’t just a common liar- As if there were a such thing
As perfection attainable by the line of an eyebrow, a fitted garment
or rhinoplasty.
How dare you equate your little trifles in life,
Your insignificant parking tickets and your mediocre
family and your fluctuating weight with end of the
world catastrophic planet shattering damage?
Who do you think that you are?
Let me take this moment my dear to set you straight
You are not perfect but you are alive
Comparing yourself to others isn’t living.
Eating yourself up isn’t living.
Pity party parades every other day is not a life.
You too are only human.
Even with your frailities you are a masterpiece.
Only you can dare be you and you do it best.
How about practicing some gratitude for what you do have
If you have a parking ticket, be thankful you have a car
You have a pimple, be thankful you have two eyes to see it
You wanna get better? Then help someone else
but start off with you.
Off all the nerve in the world! How dare you go around frowning,
Trusting every opinion on the planet except your own.
Except mine.
I love you.
So stop telling me I’m wrong.

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