As the early morning sun is peeking
behind the mountains in my backyard,
I begin to romanticize a day where I do not doubt,
a day where I do not indulge in self-sabotage,
a day where I believe I am capable of achieving my childhood dream.

A lot of times,

I only wish that I could

just believe in myself

to the same magnitude

that other people believe in me.

We are truly our own worst enemy.

Why is that?

Self-doubt is an infectious thing

that seems to spread alongside

the years you age.

And it tends to feed off

the things you like and love the most.

How do you break,

cure that cycle

with the thing others call

confidence?

Or even with

the thing called faith?

Will you hold me when I'm too sad to move?

Buy me watermelon and watch me eat it with chopsticks.

Show me that I'm not alone in a world that's overpopulated.

Observe how I pick leaves from trees while I walk.

Could you help me understand myself because I'm uneasy about it.

Sit by me.

No, go away.

I need to be alone.

Wait, I need someone.

Notice my frown when I try to dissect the thought I just had.

I'm confused.

Stare at my feet as I carefully place them over each crack.

Sidewalks are stupid.

Consider that I might not feel anything.

Consider that I might be overwhelmed.

I'm confident.

I'm worthless.

I'm scared of dying.

I want to die.

I'll say I'm listening.