or have i been this unhealed wound by mornings to mourn?
bravery feels like fear, while love is supposed to feel like ‘here’.
so what does ‘i’ supposed to feel like?
a jumble of alphabet with added memories? a series of unkind dialogues in the mirror? someone’s thought daughter that’s lived through different phases?
since when did existence feel so overwhelming, when there’s the feeling of not being enough for others. destroying the feeling and identity you’ve desperately clung to. angry. flawed. desperate. lack of self-esteem. cruel. when there’s no reason to like myself at all and maybe i just devalue everyone that values me. because maybe i’m programmed to be flawed, defective, but…
what does ‘i’ supposed to feel like?
i, the ego, or the feeling?
i, the self, or the memories?
i, the person, or the behaviour?
i, the facade, or every single tear i’ve shed before bedtime?
i, through breakdowns without breakthroughs?
yet we keep going, still.
why?
why are you telling me to do all the hard things when it’s always been hard for me?
and why does it take centuries for us to love ourselves when it doesn’t take long for one person to make us feel bad about ourselves?
if it takes bravery or courage to love at all, why is everything terrifying? foreign, and terrifying?
because i probably can’t imagine maybe 10 years from now, i’d still be alive, talking to my parents with a daughter and dressing her up with all her favourite clothes. bringing her to amusement parks or just a simple good night’s sleep lullaby. i can’t even plan tomorrow. there might be no tomorrow for me at all. but why should we keep going on?
because of all the loves that i can give out to the world,
i’m the person least worthy of it.
(if i never existed as a person and instead as a flower, would you pick me or water me?)
(if ever i existed as a blank page of an entire novel, would you sketch on my page or would you let it be?)
(if you never met me, and only knew my existence through the stars and the words and the distant hello of a stranger or perhaps another ‘nice to meet you,’ would you love me by then?)
