I was reading a post on instagram by Dale Partridge on how love and acceptance differ, and that is exactly why I am writing this.
I have, for long, been a slave of what people think of me and if they would accept me for something that pleased them. To be loved and to be accepted are entirely different. I always wanted to be someone, ‘everyone’ accepted and at the same time loved. There was a time when I tried to change everything about myself including my looks, my thoughts, my ambitions, my opinions, so on and so forth !
Boy! Oh,boy! I was so delighted with the fact that they loved me and accepted this new (read fake) me. But deep inside I was so hollow. I couldn’t breathe. Forsaken. Everything I said or did was in some way someone else’s voice, and not mine. My intentions were puppets of someone else’s mind. I was sharing my body with a mind I didn’t relate to. The worst realisation came when I was all by myself and I couldn’t even recognise the person I had turned into.
I had two minds. One which wanted to live free. And one, which was only living. There was so much hassle and disaccord within me for knowing the reality behind this unauthenticity. I didn’t want to be a slave anymore. But that is how this works. Doesn’t it ?
Took me a while to understand how people strike the very basic of human intellects, their thoughts. Take control of our minds by laying a trap, and weaving venomous intentions into fairytales. We all fall for it, try to change ourselves to fit into this deceptive and complex chain of pleasing everyone.
You can not be loved and accepted at the same time by everyone. Enjoy the voice of your mind. Do what you like to do. Most importantly, do what you think is right. Be your best friend and your worst critic. People are going to judge you anyway, because that’s what they do best ! If you follow them, you’ll end up becoming a slave. Better die as a rebel, than die as a slave.
You were never a part of the crowd. And you’ll never be. Doesn’t matter as long as you Love and Accept yourself just the way you are. Imperfections are beautiful. Aren’t they?