since moving to Brooklyn over a year ago I haven’t really made any effort to be cool in the way I think people who know I moved here expect Brooklynites to be. I still have no city friends, I don’t do city things. I hated living in Bushwick because that weird young/ entitled artist/ loft aesthetic never appealed to me. I moved to Park Slope after my year lease was up and I’m much more comfortable here amongst the parents in their late 30s and their 5,000 dogs, the old brownstones I will never afford, the trees, Prospect Park, the enormous cemetery. Because I’m so relentlessly busy at work I’ve had no time to really put forth an effort on social media or make my life look appealing, and I guess everyone just thinks I’ve jumped ship. I’ve lost 100 Instagram followers in a month because my life is now my boyfriend and my dog - the 2 things that make me happy - and people probably just like you more when you’re miserable (I still am, in different ways). I think I have a paranoid fear someone told people not to like me, so they’re leaving, which doesn’t make much sense. But really, the things I would do to have a real life girlfriend in my neighborhood to spend time with. 

I always have a hard time understanding that someone loves me. I spent my entire adult existence up to this point loving unconditionally but without return. I thought because it came so strongly from me that I guess I cared enough for the both of us, never really grasping that he should love me too. I didn’t know how much better it made my love feel when I could see it reflected back to me. It’s easy for me to dismiss myself with “I’m ok” or “don’t worry about it” and get slightly defensive when someone challenges it - I have to stop and remember they’re not telling me what to do but genuinely care about my wellbeing and aren’t letting me treat myself poorly anymore. I love my boyfriend more than anything and I’m learning from him how to love myself too. I couldn’t ask for a more patient, understanding, or supportive partner. I can’t write anything not put into words a million times about the unbearable pleasurable pain of having a heart so full and a brain so fizzy that I’m foaming at the mouth at the thought of him. I can’t believe that he shares those feelings for me too, a boyfriend has never told me he’s loved me before, and I believed for so long that I was fatally flawed. I’m a better person because we’re working to improve together, we can sort through our faults and fights and come out the other side with an understanding of what each other needs. I’m so proud to call him mine. 

I love my boyfriend but I’m guilty that I don’t love myself. I want to be with him forever but I don’t want to be with myself for another day. I have trouble trying to suppress the crazy anxiety I feel over everything, Im always afraid of failing, I know there’s so much wrong on my end I need to change and I feel so stressed and worried I’ll run out of time. I don’t want anyone to feel like they need to help me. I’m a mess and everyone else is 5 steps ahead of me.