i am but a commodity

i know i am nothing but a commodity. that’s how i understand my worth.

i have a sort of obsession with worth i attribute to a lack of attention during my childhood. i doubt i was neglected in any sense. i more so believe i was a spoiled brat who’s always wanted more and more. nothing ever satisfied me, so naturally, there’d be a lack because i couldn’t view what i had as enough. perhaps, a hole is an innate lack inside of me. perhaps, that’s how it is and always will be.

i was undeniably an attention-seeker growing up. i did whatever i thought was necessary to get attention. i went about this, not through my means, but the means of others. it has always been that way. i have struggled to understand my limits; i’ve only known through what others say they should be. it’s based on my inconvenience level, their tolerance level. it was never about what made me uncomfortable. i couldn’t believe my mindset mattered because ultimately, regardless how i felt, it was up to the other party to decide the consequence. that’s how i’ve always understood it to be.

i tried to be perfect while understanding its unattainability. i knew i couldn’t reach it. that’s why i pursued it. i placed myself in a consistent loop because, at the end of the day, i am my biggest problem. i have difficulty believing otherwise. my past becomes irrelevant when i’m no longer living in it. any action i take now is entirely my responsibility. there’s no one to blame for that. i’ve yearned for this autonomy, and i have it. i will not complain about what i have continuing the spoiled-child mindset.

i write at all because i know i have failed as a commodity. that’s why i’ve grown to isolate. no one wants me in the right way. i’m sure people like me. i’m sure statistics could support that. i’m sure life experiences could support that, but i don’t believe people genuinely like me. i am a result of the environment that raised me understanding i am but to be sold. everything is transactional. if i have nothing to offer, i have failed. there’s nothing more to that. i will never believe i have acquired validation from another party because i don’t know what validation is. i only know how to grow ecstatic from a half-assed pat on the back; a hug is confusing. i understand a hug to showcase a high level of fondness. it’s too much. if i’ve always understood a slight acknowledgement as the highest showcase, a hug causes me to short-circuit. i don’t know what it is, and, therefore, do not want it.

i come to my lifeless blog to speak from a place of imperfection. i so badly want to be perfect. i don’t know how to want anything else. i have no friends because i don’t want any. i sit in a room full of people, but don’t feel i belong. it has nothing to do with feeling like an outsider. it has to do with forgetting how to be a commodity and no longer wanting to be. i no longer want to sell myself like a product. i want to be a person, but that leaves me in an uncomfortable spot as i’ve approached relationships like a storefront.

i think a lot and therefore deconstruct a lot. the wake of deconstruction has destroyed my home, though i never liked my home, but it’s odd being without one. to clarify, this a metaphor. my understanding of lacking inherent worth, unless it is given to me, was a part of my home. i grew up there. it houses my childhood. it has sentimental value, but i’ve outgrown feeling fulfilled from sentimental pasts and nostalgia. it isn’t enough to look back and look back again. i feel no emotion seeing a smile on my face years ago, really. i sit, stare and don’t know what to make of it.

i’ve tried so hard to be perfect that i can’t do it anymore. i’m too tired, and i don’t care. i don’t care about a lot of things anymore. i really am nothing, and i understand it’s difficult to sell someone nothing. i’ve never been strong in marketing.

i know my thinking’s flawed, but maybe in saying it out loud i can move forward. i’m always in my head. i’d like to get out now.

-magilon