You're not a good person - and that's okay.

Stop living your life as the bug.

Inside you, there is a god and a worm. You spend your years building alters of salt to the worm. And the god? You leave her in the dust (Kaothar Kadir).

PART I: The Girl

I am here to shove a hard truth down your throat. You’ve been worshipping the wrong god.

You meet a stranger on the bus and you - give him your seat, and give her your change and let them talk over you and you stand their passive aggressive bullshit. But should a car run them over, you’d do a little wiggle inside. A little dance.

What is that? Well, whatever you name the poison, its eating you alive.

And you were a rabid child, weren’t you? I was. I bit and clawed my way out of hands that tried to hold me back. and then I grew up. And I grew hard. My smile creaking and haunted as it was presented to the world.

Look at me. I wouldn’t hurt a fly. So, please don’t leave me outside.

And all that rage in my juvenile bite had to go somewhere. And if it wasn’t out here, it was in me, gone to rot.

PART II: The Cockroach

Would mother love you if you were a giant bug?

Here’s the thing about being a good person / people pleaser / pushover. You don’t like you. You don’t like the people around you. And the people around you don’t like you. It’s a lose-lose-lose.

For months, I’d been plagued by memes of Kafka and the bug analogy on my Pinterest feed before I caved and picked up The Metamorphosis. It was short, and a kick to the chest. But it dragged me through and out the mud.

The Metamorphosis is about a travelling salesman who wakes up one day to find that he has transformed into a giant insect. His family is disgusted with him, especially when he is no longer able to earn income. Gregor eventually dies after deciding that he is a burden to his family --study.com

So, would your mother still love you if you turned into a giant bug?

I know my mother wouldn’t. Not for long. If I spent a lifetime providing for my family and nothing else, they would eventually get tired of my crawling and I would cease to be a person and yes, die of starvation.

This, when you think about it, is fair.

She wouldn’t love me. And neither would I ask her too. I mean, I love her, so yes, I wouldn’t want her pick up after a fucking bug for the rest of her life. So, because I am selfish and despicable and altogether maddening, I am extending this kindness to myself. I am not waiting for the blank freedom of death after an insectile life to truly live. I am living now. And I will not be the perfect daughter to my mother (or father or the perfect anything to anyone for that matter).

When you think about it – your life and death are not yours. They’re God’s, where you believe in her or not. And your child’s not yours, they grow up to be their own person. Your house could be taken away by the flood or the bank. Your body could be stricken by the plague. The only thing you really have is your art – how you express it, the time, the space and the attention you give to it.

I am no longer an angry person. Well, sometimes I am. But it has simpered into a slow boil. I don’t hate anymore because I am no longer forced to like – forced to compromise. And I am not half as terrible as I was before, no longer unkind at the core of me. I care about the world and the people inside it.

All because I learned that it’s okay not to be a good person. Its okay to make abhorrent choices. It’s okay to leave you stricken with horror, gasping at the absurdity that I have chosen to make of my life.

Inside me is a river that flows freer than ever. Being good is the boulder that stops the stream. It holds off the water to make it dark and rancid.

There’s so much to do, so much to eat and birth and be.

Why starve when you can feast?

IN CASE YOU MISSED IT ; )

i am angry all the time.

read this if you’re terrified

read this if you're h*rny and ashamed