Inconsistency is unattractive.

I love you, but I love myself more.

The longer that I battle my tendency towards codependent attachments, the more I’ve found that the primary requirement for access to my life is consistency.

In my teens and early twenties, I found myself fixated on people whose main mode of attachment was wrought with inconsistency. As someone who felt that I needed to constantly prove my worth, this style of theirs became addictive. I enjoyed the dopamine rush of finally receiving validation through the minimum amount of attention and personal interest. It was my fatal flaw, the one aspect of my personhood that repeatedly wreaked havoc on my life.