We can live in the world as hosts, or live in it as guests. I want you to stop living like a guest. You’re an inhabitant of the world, not a guest.
Guests walk on eggshells, apologize all the time, say “I’m sorry” for looking at their hosts funny. Guests act like visitors, virtually apologizing for their existence. I want you to ask yourself—do I live in the world as a host, or a guest?
As a host, you own that your existence in this world is…yours. You remind yourself as often as necessary, this is my world. You’re no guest, here. You take charge of yourself in the world from knowledge that you belong in it. You don’t grovel for acceptance and validation of your existence. You don’t feel giddy and lucky when you obtain that external validation and permission.
Because…you don’t need it. You’ve convinced yourself you do. But you don’t.
As a host in this world, you live assertively, not scared and cowering, not ceding meekly to others, not effusing gratitude to those who treat you kindly. Because this is your world, because you belong in it, you don’t act like someone with a “guest pass” who needs to impress your hosts.
You’re the fucking host. And you act like one—gracious, humble, in charge, exuding awareness that this is your domain. The world isn’t a club, a fraternity or sorority you’re thrilled to be welcomed into. You need no one’s permission to enter your home assertively, and you need no one’s permission to enter (and be in) the world, assertively.
The world is your greater home.
I want you to think about this, and shed your passivity and self-deprecation, and start acting like the world is yours, because it is.