I'm sure one day you'll see me.
One day you'll appreciate that I stuck around.
One day you'll realize that this is give and take,
And that I've given more than my fair share,
(But I'm okay with that.)

One day you'll understand that I can't read minds,
And one day you'll articulate that you care,
And one day you'll verbalize how much I mean to you.

One day you'll hear me,
Without words.
And one day you'll see me
With your heart.

But until then,
I'll keep guessing and hoping
That maybe I am enough for you.
And maybe there are just words you haven't said,
Maybe there are actions left to be done.

One day I'll be healthy.
One day I'll be better.
One day I'll be what you subconsciously want me to be,
Because maybe that's the problem.

But until that day,
I sit here with misty eyes,
Choking on whimpers and sobs.

I just want you to show that you care.

Enough,
I scream to the sort of opposite of my conscience.
Enough..
I whisper as the cruelty of my mind recedes,
But only for a moment.

I want to be more valuable than material goods,
And monetary means.

I want to be better, and stronger,
And someone you're terrified of losing.

Because I'm so scared of losing you,
That it strangles my vocal chords,
And sits on my chest,
Attempting to puncture my lungs.

I am tired.
Tired of fighting it,
The voice in my head that coos and growls,
You're not good enough.
You'll never be enough.
Everyone finds someone better,

And I'm sick of thrashing violently against it's hold.
I'm sick of writhing beneath it's grasp on me,
Because my heart screams that I deny it,
My heart shouts that I have to fight back.

But I'm the only one doing the fighting here.

And I'm so, so tired.
I'm tired of not being enough.
Whether it be good enough
Or enough to make someone want to stay.

All I can do,
Is tell that voice:
ENOUGH!**
With all the fire left in me.
Because I've had enough
Of beating myself down.

But even that shout,
That strong-willed show of disobedience,
Just isn't enough.

What are you supposed to do
When your worst fears
Begin to come true?

I don't mean to sound self-loathing,
But I warned you.
This is what you get
For loving the sick girl.

Please don't be surprised
Or confused.
I warned you,
And I tried, before, to give you multiple outs.
Whether it be by pushing you away,
Or explicitly explaining
How I am, and what usually happens.

I can't make this feeling of worthlessness
Go away just because I want it to.

I can't pretend I'm confident when
There are just so many things
I'm terrible at.

And I can't just be better,
Stop being anxious,
Stop being depressed,
Stop not focusing,
Stop being manic or dysphoric.

It takes more than wanting to be better.

It takes a lot of work.

And while I know I can't do it on my own,
I understand if you don't want to help.
Or if you can't.

But this is what you signed up for
When you started loving the sick girl.

Right when I think
I might be maybe getting better,
I mess up again.

I have to be better.
Stronger.
And I need to do it now.

No more being gentle with myself,
I don't have time for patience.

I don't mean to be so afraid,
To cry so very often.

But I will stop.

I spent five years
Not showing fear or emotion,
Giving in to what punishment
He thought I deserved.

And I spent one year
Being berated and scolded
For showing any and all emotion
Besides endless appreciation.

I can manage not crying.

I can be better.

I just have to keep telling myself that.

"Why can't I just be more confident?"

Let me get straight to the point.

I'm not confident.

I might not always think I'm worthwhile,
But I'm getting there.

I know I'm not terrible looking,
But that is never enough.
I have to be thinner,
My eyes can't be brown,
I need to have clearer skin,
My waist needs to be smaller,
My stomach needs to be flatter.
My hair needs to be softer and have more volume.
Maybe even curl a little.

All these thoughts that I would fight tooth and nail against my friends if they dared to think this negatively about themselves.

I'm a hypocrite, what can I say?

Though I have been conditioned
From the day I could voice my own opinions, from the day I didn't want my mother dressing me up,
To believe I have no value other than my appearance.
To believe that I have no worth as anything but a pretty little doll, and having even that revoked.

My parents would call me "pretty" and "precious",
But when I stood up for myself when they would lash out at me
I was "ugly" and "rude".

They're still like that.
Voicing my opinions around them
Never goes well.

Manipulative friendships and two ex's later,
I'm this way.

I am unsure of everything. Every compliment could be revoked at any second.

Same with any type of love.

The only reason I know I'm better than those who have hurt you,
Is because the only thing I'm arrogant about
Is the empathy and vicious protectiveness in my heart.

But I'll never be
Super confident,
Like the women who reel men in like fish,
Devour their hearts,
And throw them back into the water.

But I know I am strong.
Stronger than you know.
I've been told it's incredible
That I can still be so soft and sincere
And caring
After going through
My own little hell.

And maybe that is my strength.
I still have a heart,
After refusing to sell my soul to Death.

I am confident in at least that much.

I can't finish my coffee.
And the caffeine hasn't kicked in,
But I think the meds are starting to.

I'm barely hungry.
Well, right now I'm not even a little bit.

I know I don't exude confidence,
But I'll get there, I promise.
I am sure of my abilities,
My intelligence (sometimes)
And my determination.

I am sure that I am good, and kind, and forgiving.

I just need to work on liking my outside self.

I'm getting there. I promise.

I'm going to pour the coffee down the drain,
And introspect for an hour or two.

Maybe I'll come to an epiphany
That I'm not entirely terrible,
And that I am enough, if not more than.

I long to feel your hands pressed into my back,
In an embrace that goes from kissing to much more.

I long to hear your laugh,
And to bathe in the light of your smile.

I want to feel your fingers running through my hair.
Whether you're gently gripping or lulling me to sleep.

I want to be held within your arms, safe and sound from the cruelty of the past, the harsh cold of the present, and the frightening void of the future.

I want to run my fingers along your spine,
Allowing you to let down some, if not all, of your walls.

I yearn to place my lips upon yours, so we may fall into place together.

I love you so, and all I want is to show you
The extent of that love,

So you may never feel inadequate,
So you may never feel left behind.
I want to love you just enough,
And then an infinity more.