I think comparison is a trick of the devil. The d*** devil! With his crackly butt. With his chapped lips. With his ashy elbows. With his raggedy mustache. He really gets on my nerves, and I’ve had about enough of the trickery! At the very least, he can get some Vaseline for them lips and elbows, maybe even rub some into his mustache. Don’t make no sense.
Yesterday I was in church wishing I had hair that grew thick and long like all the other women there. Then I started to wish that my waist was as snatched as some of the women there. And I do this all the time. I want a husband quick fast and in a hurry. Preferably someone who looks like her husband, treats me like that lady’s husband, and is as nontraditional but successful as this other woman’s husband. Then I need me some babies. Healthy, fat babies like the ones on the Pampers commercials. I would like to buy a house. A cute starter house like the one my friend has. I want to have a fun, creative, flexible job like this one chick I know. I would prefer stacks on stacks on stacks like Soulja Boy (but not really like Soulja Boy though). I want sunshine, rainbows, and fleeked eyebrows like all those girls on the Gram. And a leprechaun with a pot a gold . . . because . . . doesn’t Kim Kardashian have one?
Y’all know this is jacked up.
The bible says something about the false logic in comparing ourselves to one another because it’s like comparing ratchet to ratchet. What verse? Stop asking questions. I don’t know. But it’s in there somewhere. And even if you don’t like the bible, it’s still true.
We can use other people’s lives as a source of inspiration for our own, but not as a guiding post for how we live. The only guiding post for me are the tenets of my faith, which I understand to be unique to me. Sometimes the guiding post is that little voice inside of us that speaks when we’re very, very still. Maybe your guiding post is the way your heart flutters when you’re doing what you love or those moments your eyes water because you’re overwhelmed with emotion. I want to follow my faith as I understand it and listen to that voice, those flutters, and my tears over anyone else’s. Because you know what? This is my life. I’m the only one who has to live it.
Don’t nobody wanna be like you anyway. A leprechaun? Really? I wouldn’t even know what to feed it.