“I love myself when I am laughing. . . and then again when I am looking mean and impressive.” ~ Zora Neale Hurston
When I wake up in the morning, the first person who strikes my mind is (surprise, surprise!) me, myself! I look into the mirror; see those radiant eyes of mine: deep as a well, hot and intense as burning coal; dying to speak ― the thirst to unveil myself. When I look at myself, I see that million dollar smile, the relaxed shoulders; and all the confidence within me get a power boost ― fervour takes me up; and again, I am filled up with passion, enthusiasm and the zeal; gusto replenishes me―and here’s the bubbly me! I see the spark of life twinkle within me. When I look at myself, I see hope, I see life― I feel alive.
Yep, I have just described myself; this is precisely how I feel, every day of every week. You may think that this idea of self-fascination is obscure and absurd, and you might even develop animosity against me for the same reason… but the truth ― I don’t care.
Why am I called self-centred by those people who are solely plunged into themselves? Why am I called selfish by that world, which is taken by the greed? Why am I called anything by the world?
I don’t think that loving myself is wrong. In fact, it’s perfectly all right. And the truth is, everyone love themselves; it’s just that some flaunt it, and some don’t. Why not divulge your true feelings? Why be eaten by malice? Why not be a stout personality, and a prodigious individual? If I was in your stead, rather than hating, I would start loving. I would start living and enjoying, rather than burn my time in futile ire.
Can this happen ― just for one moment, rather than being whisked away in acrimony, why not just live the moment? Why not explore this world?
I believe that there is no point of your existence if you don’t know your point. And for that, you need to explore your own self; you need to be taken aback in the fascination of being- of the wonders there are and that can be done ― by you. You need to know how wonderful you are.
I know that life isn’t life if you just float through it. I know that the whole point- the only point- is to find the things that matter, and hold on to them, and fight for them, and refuse to let them go.* And no matter how big a social animal you are, in the end, you are alone. You are the only thing you have to yourself (guaranteed); you have to cling on to yourself ― to survive, and to live.
A person always looks out at another person for inspiration. Why not change that outlook, and look for inspiration into one’s self? Why not be a paragon? Why not be your own lucky charm? Why not be your own hero? Why not be your own love?
Now, let me just bombard you… is it really me who is wrong by going against the world, or is it you, and do you think it’s high time to break the chain― to be different; to be who you were born to be? Think over it, and whatever may the answer be, I still don’t care if you’d agree with me or not.
This is what it feels like to be a narcissist… and, this is the supreme superlative feeling. EVER.
*The text in blue is taken from Delirium (by Lauren Oliver)