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September 26, 2006

I have an old companion. I can’t say friend. She hasn’t ever had a nice thing to say about me. Ever. When I feel accomplished she points out my faults, when I am weak, she exposes a deeper weakness.

She hates me. Of this I am fairly certain.

It’s her voice I hear when in a crowd of people and the fear of being seen overwhelms determination and purpose. When I escape to a quiet place and try to hide. It’s her voice I hear when I have failed. Her mocking laughter slices my soul to ribbons.

The problem is not that she exists, it is that I believe her. No matter what she says. I find myself numbly agreeing with the insults, the belittling, the deprecation. No amount of affirmation or encouragement can compensate for how I have failed to live up to her perfect standards.

She says everyone is better than me. She says I am thisclose to being exposed as a fraud and if you only “really knew me” like she does, you wouldn’t sit so close. She tells me I have to work twice as hard for half the result and I’ll never be good enough.

She tells me everyone sees me this way. I am tolerated and never loved. By anyone. She says I am pitied.

I hate her too. I hate that I have lived so long with her whispering in my ear. I hate that I have believed her vicious words.

How do I make peace with her?

I am She.