I want that authentic self kind of self love.
I want that white dude kind of self love.
I want that Song of Myself kind of self love.
I know that we are all aware of how much white dudes seem to love themselves. A solid 1/3 of the lets-try-and-understand-Trump articles revolve around how much he loves himself. White dudes still hold 2/3rds of all board seats in Fortune 500 companies. Most of western literature is just sympathizing with a dude struggling with his one problem: impotence. We envy their lack of reserve and their ability to just be who they are, because who they are is mostly accepted as the norm.
Can you imagine if you could love yourself as freely as a white dude does? Listen to Walt Whitman’s cover of Feelin’ Myself
And I know that the hand of God is the promise of my own,
And I know that the spirit of God is the brother of my own,
Translation: I am a gift to the people from God. My spirit is kindred to the spirit of God.
I am the mate and companion of people, all just as immortal
and fathomless as myself,
(They do not know how immortal, but I know.)
Translation: Poor plebeians don’t know how amazing it is to be alive! If only they knew, like I know.
What is commonest, cheapest, nearest, easiest, is Me,
Me going in for my chances, spending for vast returns,
Adorning myself to bestow myself on the first that will take
Not asking the sky to come down to my good will,
Scattering it freely forever.
Translation: Now she want a photo. You already know though. You only live once ‒ that’s the motto baby YOLO. And we ’bout it every day, every day, every day. Like we sittin’ on the bench, baby we don’t really play. Every day, every day, fuck what anybody say.
So I’m resolving to love myself like Walt Whitman loved himself. Fuck what anybody say.