Love Yourself As Much As You Want To Be Loved

A few weeks ago I saw a picture that said very simply: "Love yourself as much as you want to be loved."

Now we've all heard the usual; "Love yourself", "You have to love yourself before someone else can love you", but this was different, to me at least.

See, I've always envisioned what it would be like to be married/in a relationship with someone, and their love and how they would care for me. They'd make me tea, and hug me when I'm sad, and watch Disney movies with me and make me laugh. It always came easily when I felt lonely to just imagine what it would be like if someone was there to help me feel better. Seeing that sentence flipped the tables. What if I loved myself as much as I want to be loved? What if I made my own tea, and did things to cheer myself up when I was sad, what if I respected myself for who I was and loved my flaws, instead of pointing them out and saying: "Well the rest of me is okay"?

This might sound silly, but before I had seen that, I actually had been kissing my own shoulders when I got out of the shower, as a small reminder to love myself. This sentence just seemed to re-enforce the idea of; well, why shouldn't I kiss my own shoulders? I love them!

It seemed so profound, to suddenly be granted this permission, it seemed, to love myself fully. Instead of trying to find the balance between loving yourself and being humble, I was told to love myself with the amount of love I would want someone else to pour into me, and I realized, that was a LOT.

I'm still learning how to love myself that much. But everything tough starts with baby steps. I'll admit, I still tear myself down sometimes. I get frustrated and start listing all of the things I don't like about my body or my personality, and I think it's okay. No one is perfect and can just flip the switch to loving themselves.

So I challenge you, whomever you are reading this, to try to love yourself as much as you want to be loved. When you look in the mirror, list a few things that you really love about yourself. Is it your pretty eyes? Your sassy hips? Your dainty hands? Your ability to come up with great jokes? How good you are at making chicken Parmesan? Whatever it is, celebrate it. You don't have to parade down the street yelling: I HAVE THE BEST LIPS I HAVE EVER SEEN! In fact, please DON'T do that. But you can smile at yourself in the mirror and think: yeah, I'm awesome.
What other steps can we take to loving ourselves as much as we want to be loved? We all crave love, and to a degree I believe we can manufacture some of that love for ourselves.
So go love on yourself. Go love on other people too.

Also, here is a picture of me with no filter and without editing out my blemishes. Because I love myself.
XO, Muzzy

An open letter to Percabeth

Dear Percy Jackson and Annabeth Chase,

First off, let me congratulate you two on being some of the most well-rounded, down-to-earth, and realistic-feeling characters written. I've felt like I could relate to you two since page one. Sure, I'm not a demigod, and I haven't battled monsters, but if we took that aspect out of your lives you would just be two regular kids- and that's awesome.
Secondly, y'all are beautiful. I admit, I ship you two- maybe a bit more than I should, but you fit together so well. However I completely respect your friendship before a romantic relationship. At the age you two met romance was out of the question, and honestly, gross. But I love the fact that you put friendship first, at all costs. Despite your parents' previous disagreements you formed a friendship that is beautiful and one I personally envy.
The way you both care for each other so much just fills my little heart with glee. I can feel Percy's pain when Annabeth is hurt, and I know the struggle of Annabeth's jealousy when Rachel is around.
In conclusion, you two are a beautiful couple and I hope that you are always happy in your fictional realm. Keep fighting Monsters.
Love, Muzzy

A weird kind of revenge

Cold, blue lips slowly sinking down into the water. He watched her go in horror, knowing that any attempt to rescue her would be too late. Her soul was no longer in her body, yet it felt like his own heart was. How cruel had he been, to force her to go to such extremes and take her own life in the icy river? Her hair floated around her as the gentle current moved her away. Soon her lifeless form would reach the open water and dip down to the very bottom where perhaps it would stay for centuries. He knew he should stop it, drag her out so that her family could give her a proper burial and say goodbye, but he was too selfish. His eyes welled with tears, his heart felt punctured with glass, and he fell to his knees in anguish knowing that it was all his fault that she was now dead. Never again would he hold her close, feel her gentle touch, hear her words like hellfire, whipping against his skin when she was angry. Everything that he had loved and hated had been put to rest as her body turned cold. Whether her death was a sweet escape or perhaps the most painful thing she had ever endured, no one would know.


I wrote this a few nights ago when I was upset. It's slightly inspired by Ophelia's death in Hamlet.