The importance of friends.

Once upon a time, I wrote this poem:

Hit and Run Lover
I always thought Self Esteem
and I would meet
in a meadow full of
wild flowers,
run
into each other’s arms
(with, of course, the “Ode to Joy” in the background)
and then walk hand in hand
together for all time,
exchanging blissful, soulful looks.

Alas!

Self Esteem is that
inconstant lover who
throws me against an alley wall,
snakes a hand down my pants and
ravishes me until I’m senseless
with delight.
Then runs away, giggling,
while I lean against the wall,
gasping and limp, damp and
wailing
Wait!
Can’t I have just a little more of that?

I sent it to non-writing girlfriend who gave me very wise advise:

Maybe you should go a different route with the “bad lover”.  Perhaps that LOW self esteem is something like this: he’s a big bastard that you occasionally fall for, you know it’s wrong but it’s habitual.  Then suddenly he’s out of your life and you like AHHHH!!  I feel like ME again.  Hello HIGH self esteem.

It was a revelation, not just writing wise, but personally. Could I imagine that feeling good was the default state, instead of constantly doubting myself?

So I tried another poem.

The Seduction of Self-Denigration

Like a lover who sneers behind your back, it sneaks into
your life
wearing the mantle of virtue –
productivity
modesty
simplicity
humility.

It promises people will
like
admire
pet
praise
love
you.

It’s got all the right words, and all the right moves. This is everything
you ever wanted.

This one is smooth. Fine. And oh, so sweet.

Beware.

It’s sick sweet like cotton candy, like heroin, like a bitter
addiction with honey on its tongue.

As with every bad lover, you
discover it
lied
about itself and you.

All the things it promised
(love and delight and all the joy you can devour)
haven’t shown up.
They never will.

You feel sordid and dirty and
dissatisfied with the
arrangement.

Kick it out.
Promise yourself never to let it back in.
Bad lovers always knock again.