Why do I think I'm better than everyone else?
But other days I can't seem to even look at myself.

I'm so cocky and ignorant,
yet lowly and sensitive.

It makes me realize how much I don't understand my own,
or why I try so hard for perfection.

Has my whole life has been nothing more than one silly made up competition?

I hate myself.
The imperfection.

And yet my flaws are what make me so different.
Don't I love it?

The quirks of being somebody insignificant?
I don't have to care.

Not for one minute until I feel your penetrating stare.
You've always been watching me.

And for some reason that makes me want to care.
Not that I need to be someone better,
but that, all you've ever asked of me is to be whom you first created.

And a wrenching so deep in my soul knows for how long I've let you down,
but a rejoicing in my heart tells me that was already left long ago underneath the mound.

Like a wave reaching its peak, I thank the lord for his mercy upon me.
I'm so lost and hurt, but when his loving wave washes over me, I feel nothing but utter glee.