Here goes something I may regret telling.

*~*

People who know me think I live The Life . I meet celebrities and there's usually a good story involved. I get invited to the parties that are written up on Page Six. If I want to go see a band, I usually have a backstage pass. I have a great job, a phat apartment, cool roommates and tons of friends.

I've traveled. I have a personal sense of style. I am fickle. I change my hair color frequently; I always have. My stylist has been known to come to my house and do my hair when I freak out and hate it.

I have a unique voice. Someone last night told me that I have beautiful eyes.

But here's what none of them know, or maybe they do and they choose to overlook it. I really don't like myself. Deep down, I'm not happy with myself. And I never have been.

Some days are better than others and my esteem builds as the years pass, but overall, I would prefer to be anyone but me.

I used to walk around thinking to myself "I hate myself." Does anyone else do this?

I used to wake up and look in the mirror. "I hate you," I would mutter.

If I said something that I didn't think came out right, I would mentally berate myself, "God! You SUCK. I hate you. Nobody likes you." If I tried something on in a dressing room and it wasn't how I wanted it to look, I would say, "I HATE you. Look at you. You suck." I could be so hard on myself, that I drove myself to tears. I can remember a number of times when my mother and I stood in a dressing room with her telling me that something looked nice, as she fixed my sleeves, diverting her eyes, as I stood in front of a full-length mirror. Crying.

If I were driving and singing to the radio, and I missed a lyric, I would hit the steeling wheel, mentally yelling "You Suck!"

A couple of years ago, this habit became so bad, that one day I was walking down a street in NYC and I heard myself say aloud, "I hate myself." I looked around and saw that no one was around me. I breathed a sigh of relief and looked down at the cement. Once it happened in an elevator, but I was alone. Once it happened in a cab, and I pretended to be singing to myself. Once, it happened at work, so I cleared my throat to cover it up.

If I was quiet at any point, I was probably telling myself how much I suck. Which may explain why I chatter on incessantly about anything. Or why I need to fill a void in conversation with a story.

I can't stand it if someone doesn't like me, because that means that my id is winning the battle of self-hate. Which is why, I have the desire to win everyone over. Which is why I must be the most popular. Which is why, I overdo it on a consistent basis. I don't want to let anyone down. I develop all of these friendships and I can't keep up but I don't want to lose anyone.

Because when I lose, I hate myself even more.

Sometimes, when I really felt the dislike, I drew myself inward and left my confidence in a box under my bed. I can see myself, walking down the street, hoping no one would notice me. Praying that no construction worker would call out and whistle or yell an obscenity to me - that would draw attention to me. If I were in a bar, I would wait to go to the bathroom for as long as possible so as not to have to get up and draw attention to myself - because of course they'd all be looking at ME (what was I thinking?). If I had to walk through a crowd, I would scrunch my 5'7" frame inward so to take up the least room possible. If I saw someone across the room laughing, I might think they were laughing at me. Maybe something I wore looked wrong? Maybe I had toilet paper on my shoe?

I have no idea how this started. Maybe someone made a comment to me somewhere along the line that made me doubt myself. Maybe it's an internal defect. Maybe it's the overachiever in me. I don't know.

This is the craziest thing about me. And I have put it out on the table, right now, right here.

I have a feeling, that a lot of girls do this or feel this way and that's why I'm putting it out there.

At some point, I reached a point when I stopped doing this to myself on a day to day basis - not because of therapy or a great lover. Although, perhaps for another person, either/or would have worked.

No, somehow�someway�I kinda grew into myself. I started to put away the hate. I started to worry less about what people thought about me. I made a move toward acknowledging that maybe I will never be perfect. Maybe I will never be exactly what I want myself to be. Maybe I will never be as beautiful as I want to be. Maybe I will never be as charming as I strive to be. Maybe I will never be that girl, with witticisms dripping off of her tongue, her lush mouth curling into a deviant smile with a spark in her eyes to match her meaning.

Maybe men will never fight wars over me. Maybe the world will never mourn my death. Maybe I will never reach my aspirations of nobility. Maybe, I will never achieve my definition of greatness.

I will not be Madame Curie nor Madonna. It is possible I will neither meet a President nor be one. But I would like to be. These things were all on my list.

Nearly everyday of my life for the last 12-or-so years I have hated myself. I beat myself up over my own stupid expectations. I worked to transform myself. I acted like someone else. I morphed into who or what people wanted me to be. I made myself physically sick. Physically. Sick.

Sometimes, like last night, when I laid in my bed alone and I thought about my day and evening, I revert fall into old patterns. I beat myself up again.

I guess what I'm saying�why I am exposing myself like this�is because I see a lot of people like this. I recognize my own. And I feel a need to comfort them. I want to wrap my arms around you and tell you that you are beautiful and special and funny and worthy.

Most of all, that you are worthy.

We are worthy of what we want most in life.

Not perfection or adoration or fame or fortune. No.

We are all worthy of love.

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