I consistently believe I am not beautiful.
I consistently believe I am not a real artist, not enough, too much, too hard on myself, and on and on.
I consistently have a need to be right.
I consistently lack trust in what others say (especially those things that oppose my above beliefs) because of this need to be right.
I consistently judge my beliefs and stories and patterns and wish to be done with them.
I consistently am reminded that these parts of me aren’t going away and I need to find healthier ways of dealing with them.
I consistently remember that I have all the tools I need to deal with these parts of myself, I just don’t always choose to use them.
I consistently worry about people getting tired of my shit and leaving me, and being lonely and missing connection.
At least I’m consistent.
Except when I’m not.
Because sometimes, I have days when I do believe I make a difference, I do believe I am enough, I do believe I have every right to be here, I do believe I can take care of myself, I do believe there is a good reason for you to love me.