I Like the Second Option Better

I feel that when someone tells you that you're something you know you're not, it still sticks to you. Like a hot fresh brand, the words are permanently engraved on your skin, causing an eternal hurt and irritation. Even if the wound is covered up from the outside world, you still know it's there. It might scab over, begin to fade and maybe even disappear, but other times it stays as a permanent scar; a constant reminder of what somebody thinks about you.

Failure
Unsuccessful
Stupid
Disappointment

Those are just a handful of the newly uninvited tattoos I was given last week. In the midst of being informed this is what someone thought of me, I knew it was untrue, but that didn't make the blow any less painful. All week I started my day thinking of those four words. They became my daily repetition of insults on my own personal being. The words just floated around in my skull like a dog that never stops barking; loud, uncontrollable, and obnoxious as hell.

I wish I could say that I had some revelation and figured out how to kick the words out of my ears, but I haven't. They've quieted, I can say that much, but there is still that person sitting there in the back of my brain on permanent repeat.

Perhaps I'll get a forehead tattoo that says FABULOUS and then the voice in my head will put a sock in it.

Or maybe I'll just sock the person in the head who said it all in the first place.