Am I a pushover?

This seems thickly ironic when I watch old toddler videos of me stomping about in my pajamas, demanding and snatching toys and grunting. However, I’ve recently taken a hindsight on my life and tied up my days into a string of apologies and personal regrets. I’ve let friends come over when it fits them for nothing in return. I say sorry when someone gets in my way. I’ve let people question every innocent action I’ve done. I only now just realized that both my best friend and a family member have looked me in the eye and basically called me a piece of shit for no reason. Then they laugh it off. Why do I laugh it off? Am I missing the hard-drive that allows a sound, a wince to escape my trembling lips and say no, you are wrong?I’m sure there are people out there who flick through the missed comebacks, the pursed lips, the gritted teeth and ask themselves what was I scared of? What makes my flesh and bones any more unworthy than another person? We are worthy of affection, sympathy and happiness and should not apologize for it.



I don’t know if I’m supposed to initiate this blog with a gripping punchline or if I should just splurge out some awkward liners from a meet and greet session. I’m just going to start with “Hi, my name is Jasmine. Writing is an impulse, it is a washing line for the thoughts jumbled up in my brain and I suppose this blog could be my line.”I think the metaphor owing to Benjamin Clementine is a beautiful one: ‘my mind is a mirror, a reflection only known to me.” This is my reflection, I suppose, let’s run with it…