Some days it feels like
no matter what I choose,
it’s the wrong answer
circled in permanent ink.
I try to be better,
quieter,
nicer,
more focused,
more enough—
and still something slips,
something breaks,
something disappoints someone.
It’s like I’m walking through a test
no one gave me the notes for,
graded on things
I didn’t know counted.
When I mess up,
it echoes.
When I do okay,
it disappears.
Good never seems loud enough
to stay.
People say, “Just try your best,”
like my best isn’t already tired
of being measured
and coming up short.
I keep showing up,
keep trying,
keep adjusting the way I stand, speak, act—
and wonder if any of it
actually matters
or if I’m just rearranging mistakes
into different shapes.
But I’m still here.
Still breathing.
Still attempting the next right step,
even when the last one
felt wrong.
Maybe that counts for something—
even if today
it doesn’t feel like it does.
Jan 29
Jan 29, 2026 at 2:19 PM UTC
Some days it feels like
no matter what I choose,
it’s the wrong answer
circled in permanent ink.
I try to be better,
quieter,
nicer,
more focused,
more enough—
and still something slips,
something breaks,
something disappoints someone.
It’s like I’m walking through a test
no one gave me the notes for,
graded on things
I didn’t know counted.
When I mess up,
it echoes.
When I do okay,
it disappears.
Good never seems loud enough
to stay.
People say, “Just try your best,”
like my best isn’t already tired
of being measured
and coming up short.
I keep showing up,
keep trying,
keep adjusting the way I stand, speak, act—
and wonder if any of it
actually matters
or if I’m just rearranging mistakes
into different shapes.
But I’m still here.
Still breathing.
Still attempting the next right step,
even when the last one
felt wrong.
Maybe that counts for something—
even if today
it doesn’t feel like it does.
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