Anyone who knows me, even just a little, has heard me say “I hate myself” at least once. Usually that proclamation comes after I do or say something kind of stupid. Knock over my coffee mug in class? “I hate myself.” Trip on an elevated surface at a party? “I hate myself.” It’s a part of my self-deprecating sense of humor and I love it.

In reality, do I hate myself though? Absolutely not. I love myself, actually. I’m a firm believer in loving yourself… in fact, it’s healthy to do so! There is no greater boost of confidence than being able to look in the mirror and hype yourself up. I’m not cocky about it and I don’t run around declaring that I think I’m the hottest thing on earth, but I do make sure to hold myself with a certain level of confidence. There’s a delicate balance between loving yourself and being obnoxiously arrogant about it.

Now back to my sense of humor: half of my humor is me saying “I hate myself” and the other half is me pretending I’m a princess and saying things like “I need attention to survive.” In some way, both of those are true statements. I don’t always feel too proud of myself for doing stupid things and I honestly kind of hate myself when I get unnecessary crushes on people. But I also get ridiculously annoyed when my friends don’t pay attention to me, so I’ll send them texts saying things like “excuse me, I need attention to survive”. Some of my humor comes from my friends because we all seem to have this dynamic with the jokes we tell. We all alternate between a vague sense of self-loathing and being absolute divas. It’s a strange combination, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.