What do I hate? I hate having time on my hands. The minute I do (no pun intended), my thoughts spiral into an unknown vortex of all things sad. I think of the woulda, coulda, shoulda stuff in life.
Why is the human brain wired to all things sad? Or is it just mine? I wonder if this has anything to do with the childhood I faced, pressed with self-esteem issues. I always felt really ugly while growing up, secretly harboring this aching desire to be desired. Beauty was tall, beauty was fair, it was a straight nose. I had none of those. I never quite felt beautiful.
I wonder how different life would have been if I had the confidence that I do now. Over time, I did gain confidence (I’m so much better than who I was in high school).
Which is why, I don’t like it when I have time on my hands. I like being busy, I like the workaholic state that life sometimes puts me in.