I don’t really like Brussels sprouts, but some people do.
They even love ‘em.
It doesn’t really say something about the sprouts, though.
We (you, me, Trump, Greta Thunberg) are like sprouts.
Some people love us, some people couldn’t care less or even hate us.
Because nobody is liked by everybody.
Now that’s not really hard to comprehend, but that comprehension doesn’t mean we are all free from thoughts and feelings about appreciation, and it certainly doesn’t mean we will never experience shitty stuff when we think we’re rejected, laughed upon, criticized or ignored.
We feel stuff, that’s beautiful, especially when you start to see the impersonality of it all.
I tried to be the perfect human being for a long time, but the thing is: it’s always my version.
And if people don’t like my particular version of the perfect human being (which is the one who sings in the morning and wishes everybody an amazing afternoon), and I forget how it works, it can totally come across as them not liking ‘me’.
It doesn’t matter how hard I try: there’ll always be a person who will condemn me for trying too hard.
One day I got up and simply tweeted ‘Good morning!’, and somebody responded with ‘Yeah, but not for people in Syria, you ignorant asshole!’
You can never win that game.
People have preferences and moods and tastes, and they all play a part in their inclination to like or dislike you.
You’re never everybody’s favorite vegetable, or dish, or piece of music.
And all of that is also never about you, but totally about them (which is another one of those things that make sense on an intellectual level, but seems hard to reach us on a deeper level).
It’s never about the sprouts.
We can be the only one to judge ourselves directly and with really painful results, as part of our programming and our ability to experience thought in the moment.
But we can also awake to that inclination and stop it.
I saw how ridiculous it is to be liked by everyone, like a sprout incessantly trying to cover itself with sugar or syrup or chocolat or mustard or ketchup or chutney, in order to be appreciated.
Go and try something else if you don’t fancy me.
There’ll be more of me for the ones who do.