I’ve said many times that art is about getting personal, so personal that we can no longer deny the individuality and meeting place of shared emotion possible within humanity. Well, this is about to get personal.
I’ve spent a lot of my life hating myself.
I’ve told myself I was ugly. I’ve been embarrassed of my very core self. I’ve obsessed over my own assumed stupidity.
I’ve manipulated. I’ve lied. I’ve used other people to make me feel better about myself. I’ve purposely caused harm to myself and others in an attempt to rectify my own feelings about my self worth.
I’ve blamed myself for the misery of others. I’ve taken responsibility for the suffering of the world. I’ve martyred myself in my own mind over external situations that have little to do with me.
I’ve been selfish. I’ve been self absorbed. I’ve treated others as if their individuality were a by-product of my existence.
I’ve shut myself off from others for fear that they will discover what a terrible human being I am, or how stupid I am, or how boring I am, or how unimpressive I am. I have hidden myself from others for fear that they will discover how ugly I am, how insecure I am, how uncreative I am, how selfish I am.
I have loved genuinely and openly. I have bared my soul for somebody who needed the tenderness and empathy. I have forgotten about myself in the midst of another’s problems. I have looked in the mirror and found myself beautiful. I have used the warmth of my body to show somebody I love how much they were worth. I have written a piece of art that I found breathtaking and important. I have cared so much that it was painful. I have been passionate and devoted; enchanted and amorous. I have loved greatly and fully.
I am human. I have many flaws. I am learning how to love them.
This is me.
And these are my confessions.
– Jaime Dyna La Mondain