I’ve spent my entire life being an over-thinker, an analyzer, a person, who, despite her best efforts, cares about other’s opinions of her. (I know…stupid, right?)
But today I’m done. Today I’ve decided that I really don’t care what you think of me.
You can smirk, you can roll your beady little eyes, you can scoff, you can whisper under your breath just loud enough that I can hear—but I don’t care. I don’t care.
I’ve spent too much time and energy wondering what so-and-so thinks of me, if I’ve made the right decision, if I could have changed what happened, or if people are saying terrible things about me behind my back.
I’ve cared about people with irrelevant opinions and guys that treated me like absolute crap. I’ve stressed over rumors that were completely false and that I had no control over. I’ve worried that I was less of a person because of what someone else thought. (Face-palm.) All of that’s ridiculous.
There are so many things you just can’t control in life. What others think of you is, unfortunately, one of those things.
It doesn’t matter what you do or say, someone will have an opinion. You could be the best, most beautiful, most kind-hearted, loving, patient, loyal, and positive person, and you’ll still have trolls. Internet trolls, real life trolls. Someone’s gonna troll you.
They’ll say you’re too fake, too nice, too much. Too much. (Can you believe that?? You could be everything and more, and then someone will have the nerve to say you’re too much.)
Sometimes there’s just no pleasing people.
But that’s the thing—this life isn’t about pleasing people.
It’s about pleasing yourself.
It’s about ignoring the comments, the rumors, the whispers, the judgments, and doing whatever the hell you want to do. Because it’s your damn life.
So today, I really don’t care what you think of me. If you don’t like my clothes or my friends, my too-big-for-my-face smile, or the way I love to eat. If you spread rumors about where I am or who I kiss, if you decide to think I’m the worst person on this universe. So be it.
So freaking be it.
I can’t control what you think or what you say, what lies you choose to believe, or what small-minded opinions you form.
I can’t make you understand me, can’t make you see who I am, can’t make you love me. And that’s okay. Because at the end of the day, I’ll still be the same woman I always was. And it really doesn’t matter if you like me; I like myself.