Will I ever be enough?
Or is it that I’m too much?
Either way, I’m always something,
Something that makes me
Unworthy of love
Or of loyalty
Or of sticking around.
Will I ever be accepted?
Or is it that I’m unacceptable?
I’ve got flaws,
But don’t we all?
Are my flaws all you see?
Is that the entirety of what makes me
Me?
Is that all I’m meant to be?
I never trust people
Because every time I flirt
With the idea,
I’m left here,
Asking myself again,
Am I too much and also
Somehow never enough?
People always leave,
And even when they stay,
They put conditions on the way
I’m supposed to be
In order to be worthy of that.
Does anyone see me?
Am I outwardly projecting,
Externally expressing
Who I am inside?
Can anyone hear me?
Am I talking to myself?
Is anyone listening?
Does anyone love me?
Can anyone love me
When I don’t even love myself?
And why don’t I?
If we’re all flawed,
Why are my flaws the only
Thing I see?
Why can’t I accept the totality
Of what it means to be me?
Where do I even begin?
My soul feels overwhelmed
With an intangible feeling
Of desperately wanting to love
And to be loved
And to make the world around me
Feel the way I feel.
It’s a love/hate thing that I have
With my interior;
I feel so inferior
Because I can’t control the constant
Stream.of.emotions;
I can’t be logical once my heart is involved.
I feel the 60% water that makes up
The human body;
Constantly drowning in a sea of
Feelings, my tide too strong
And ocean too deep.
I ask myself nearly every day
If there is anyway that I could just
Be someone else,
Just for a minute.
Couldn’t I just be someone who feels less,
Who is accepted more,
Who isn’t so alienated and complicated?
Can’t I just shrink away,
Lose a little bit of it,
Whatever it is?
I don’t know who I even want to be.
I just know,
Being me might be too much,
Even for me.