Letter from Self-Esteem

You give her more credit than she deserves.

Like when you got those hard-earned distinctions—

and thanked her.

What the hell for?

She was more distraction than muse,

if you really think about it.

Ever done the math?

She takes more than she gives.

Remember that tiny gift she gave you—

then dragged you for being “ungrateful”?

How much have you poured into her?

Time. Energy. Gifts.

She gives when it suits her.

You give because you’re loyal.

She takes.

And when she calls—you jump.

Wake up, motherfucker.

Breadcrumbs aren’t bread,

even if they’ve got “bread” in the name.

(Lie if you want,

but you get the picture.)

She hides you from her friends

like it’s a favour.

Look at you.

Look at her.

Who really needs the other?

Who’s the one scratching off admirers like ticks—

all out of some twisted loyalty?

Don’t let the new guys fool you.

They won’t stay after tasting the cookie.

Give it six months.

Men are easy to catch—

always on the hunt.

Keeping them?

Now that’s the game.

A woman’s most attractive when she’s taken.

He—the boyfriend—is the constant.

He grounds her.

That’s what draws them in.

Yes, her looks matter.

But they’re just variables.

You? You were the constant.

Never forget the power of that.

When are men most attractive?

When nothing phases them.

When her opinion matters less than oxygen.

That confidence?

It only kicks in once you’re in a relationship.

She was your constant.

And now that’s gone,

your edges are starting to fray.

Don’t let her walk on you.

Don’t let her run you.

She’s cute—

until she bites your hand off.

Love her if you must.

But never lose respect for yourself.

Always remember—

you existed before her.

A fucking superstar.

An ego that traversed galaxies.

You just forgot.

You needed reminding.

So here I am.

Your big brother.

Your day one.

Your spine.

Your bite.

I’m Self-Esteem.

And I’ve missed you.