My goal in life is to be one of those people who are just light. You see them and you suddenly feel so warm inside and all you want to do is hug them. And they look at you and smile with the warmest light in their eyes…. and you love them. maybe not in a romantic way but you just want to be close to them and you hope some of their light transfers onto you.
It scared me to realize this. To know that I could treat another living thing, […], in the same way I was treated. There had been no learning, no evolution. There had been simply programming. And then I thought, maybe seeing for myself means something, makes a difference. Maybe this insight alone is like the ape-to-man chart they show you in school. Maybe I was slumped over before, dragging my knuckles. But now, right now, maybe I am just a little more upright. This was my hope.
So much advice to give, and yet, when others have given me advice it often fails to sink in until I’ve learned it the hard way… that’s why the “brat” part was wedged into my title *sighs*
There’s too much to tell, and I’d rather not bother with the obvious things your maker should have taught you, or if you lacked one as I did, things you learned yourself in the first few nights (for your sanity: try to keep to a diet of evildoers only, try to cover up your kills, try not to kill in your home, spare no expense on lair security, etc.)…
But I’ll give you a few other choice pieces that I’ve picked up along the way, which can apply to mortals as well:
Can I tell you a secret, though? My favorite style of art isn’t mine. It isn’t realism.
I like what I make because it feels the most like me. And I like lots of kinds of art, but my favorite styles that I like looking at the most are probably not what you’d expect from a photorealist. I like things like animated gifs and fan art and street art and vaporwave and amateur comics. I like selfies and cosplay and little kinky cartoons and monsters and cats in space. You know why that stuff is my favorite? Because it’s not about being “good.” Or being realistic or whatever. It’s about being yourself. To me, “good” art is when you can see the artist in the art. My favorite style of art is the artist.
And everyone is already themselves, you know? Everyone has opinions about what is pretty or what inspires them. Everyone has an artist in them. You just gotta figure out how to show it, which you will. All it takes is time and practice.
I learned early on about the sanctity of thought. You may be in an abusive environment where you either cannot or will not speak your mind, but you can think whatever you want to think, and no one can hear those thoughts but you. That’s your personality in there. That’s you in there. You may feel small and stifled, tense and silent, but the core of what makes you you is still there. You can’t let it out right now, but you can hear and and feel it. It’s still there and once the environment changes, it will sing aloud again.
You’re safely tucked away inside yourself. Give it time–soon, you’ll be able to stretch your legs again.
if you miss someone who does not miss you, or who is no good for you, or is unattainable, take all the love you once felt for them and spread it around other places. put your love in worthwhile people and things, turn the romance in to passions for hobbies or admiration for others- enrich your own life. focus on yourself and those who actively make you happy.
Date someone you can be fucking weird as hell with who at the end of the day still wants to get naked with you.
Can I tell you a secret? You don’t have to be in a relationship.
I mean it. I know they force it down your throat until you choke on it. Girls aren’t pretty unless they’re wanted. Boys aren’t men unless they’re having sex with someone. People aren’t lovable until they’re dating someone.
But a relationship won’t always make you happy, and as wonderful as romance is, it isn’t the only love that exists. I have seen friendships that are deeper and more pure than couples who swear it’s forever – and yet the friendship is the one people ignore.
I have heard so often “nobody loves me” out of the mouths of people who are single. And it kills me because if you ask them: where are your parents, your teachers, your classmates, your pets – they say, yes, okay, but it doesn’t count. Of course it counts, love doesn’t diminish just because someone doesn’t want to have sex with you. In fact, doesn’t it sort of make that love more real that they want nothing – not even a date – out of you?
It is pretty to be in love. It’s magical, I’m sure. But it’s also wonderful to stop for ice cream in your prom dress with six other girls. It’s also wonderful to go visit the world with nothing but a bunch of buddies who are really excited about learning.
The problem is: we’ve made everything about “the one”. But maybe “the one” is just you, loving yourself, having fun, and being happy. Maybe instead of looking for our other halves, we should be piecing ourselves together.
Maybe I wasn’t born unfinished. Maybe I am the one who makes myself better.
I-want-my-IWTV 