My ugliest little loathing is my compulsion to avoid stress and conflict. This goes so far as an aversion to situations that could potentially cause stress or conflict. Why call my mom when the television and the timeline don't want anything from me? I panic anytime I'm asked a why question about myself. What if my answer isn't what they want to hear? I struggle to talk about myself because I feel like the handful of activities that make up my life aren't enough. If I hide myself away then there's nothing to oppose. The idea of sharing something about myself unprompted never occurs to me in conversation.

My other little loathings are extensions of the first, but they have their own shape. One is that I'm fundamentally unserious. I avoid working on the one thing in my awareness that's a clue toward what to do with my life. I prefer consuming others' lives over living my own life. I don't nurture most of my closest relationships. I tend to keep my connections light and breezy. You don't scratch my back, I won't scratch yours.

My last little loathing is the cruelty I perpetually rein in. I hope that the people I don't like suffer. I hope that those who reject me regret it someday. I want to inflict cruelty upon those who are cruel. I look down on those who struggle with shortcomings that I've overcome while I crave empathy when my own shortcomings arise in connection with others.

I feel amused that my dominant thought after reading these little loathings a few times is, "These aren't so bad." I know myself and my heart, the full extent of it beyond the slices I've carved out here, and I love myself. I'm glad that I have this entire life to better understand myself and perhaps grok myself in fullness. It's possible that these loathsome aspects of myself share the same roots as my most admirable qualities. Wouldn't that be something?