I Think I Hate This Little Life

There’s a trend on TikTok and other social media sites where users and content creators showcase clips of their happy lives to the song ‘Little Life’ by Cordelia. Video after video, there’s laughter, little kisses on foreheads, and frolicking through meadows, all set to Cordelia’s dreamy voice singing, “I think I like this little life…“

The joy literally radiates through the screen.

So many times, more than I can count, I’ve found myself lying on my bed, scrolling through TikTok, trying to avoid being trapped in the downward spiral of my thoughts. During those times, I’d catch a glimpse of a little life that I crave, and I’d quickly scroll away because, as much as I find joy in the joy of others, sometimes, I don’t want to see that—because I can’t have it.

I think I hate this little life.

A long time ago, I was a girl with no plan—no plan of my own at least. There was a plan I followed, a plan I knew since birth, but it was handed to me by society. You know it too. Every single part of it starts with a G. I call it Plan G.

• Go to school
• Get good grades
• Graduate
• Get a job
• Get married
• Give birth to a basketball team
• Grow old and die.

That plan was going to see me become a doctor, saving lives, kicking ass, and taking names. But, as the saying goes about God laughing at our plans, I’m the farthest thing from a doctor now. Safe to say, the plan wasn’t followed, and now I find myself like an untethered ship, drifting in a sea going nowhere. Yes, I feel stuck.

I was an academically inclined child, what some would call “bright.” I constantly felt like my worth was tied to the position on my report card. I never strayed from the top 10, but even then, because I wasn’t the first in class, I felt like I wasn’t good enough. Like I wasn’t clever enough and therefore not worthy enough.

Unlike many people, when that feeling of “not enough” comes over me, I stop fighting to be the best. I figure, what’s the point of trying if I’m not going to make it anyway? I also wasn’t very focused, but that’s a story for another day. This feeling of unworthiness is a constant blanket I wear. I’m not entirely sure if I wear it as a shield to protect myself.

I think I hate this little life…

The truth is, I don’t quite like myself.

I wouldn’t go as far as to say that I hate myself, but I do hate this little life. I don’t think I’ve ever quite felt at home in my body. I’m also not a fan of mirrors. Looking at myself for any length of time is deeply unsettling because all I see are my flaws. My teeth are too small. My waist is too wide. My tummy is too big. I’m too big. Nothing about my face fits the way it’s supposed to. My hair is too thin. To me, a mirror is a manifestation and amplification of all my insecurities and flaws.

I’m also quite familiar with the friend zone. Romantic interests become friends faster than you can say the word ‘love.’ I can’t help but think it’s me, not them. I’m also starting to believe that my ‘Dear Future Husband’ letters are hollow words to a fictional character who will never come to be.

Self-esteem is a tricky thing to navigate. It’s tied to every aspect of life. It’s imposter syndrome. Self-esteem is tied to your mind, your actions, your accomplishments, and your looks. And when it comes to my… everything… I feel like a toddler wearing oversized clothes, playing at a life I thought was laid out for me. I’m not quite sure what I’m supposed to be doing now that the plan has been derailed.

This silly little life…

I started to write as an outlet for the turmoil I feel and to make sense of the world. I tried to make sense of this life. And I do believe in purpose and life paths, but I don’t quite know what I’m supposed to be doing. I don’t know where I am in the grand scheme of things. I don’t know where I fit in.

I don’t know why I set out to write this, but being in this place feels very much like sinking back into a darkness I was so sure I’d clawed my way out of. Maybe putting this down in words will help me come to terms with it. Maybe it’ll help me make sense of a world I don’t know what to do with. Maybe seeing this laid out and out in the world will help me like this little life.

Maybe seeing these things that I think about myself will be the jolt that I need to actually start liking myself. Maybe, by the time this is out into the world, my mask will be firmly back in place. Maybe the world will give me reasons to like this little life. Maybe after this is out there, I’ll start to find reasons to like this little life. Maybe I need to look harder and outside myself to find joy and like this little life. Maybe, this too shall pass. Maybe, tomorrow will be brighter. Maybe, Umeme didn’t switch off the light at the end of the tunnel.