The most Selfish of the Selfless

I think I might be a terrible person.

I often find myself elbow deep in selflessness, drudgery, and humility: putting on a show for the rest of the world-- being the woman they so desperately want me to be.

I am a servant to others.

I am here for the one purpose: to serve-- to make the world a better place with it.

But it's a lie.

At the end of the day, I resent it.

I'd like to run away.

I'd like to do... just ONE thing for myself.

The mask I put on... it's beautiful.

I am ever the doting, self-sacrificial lamb.

I would jump in front of a bullet for many a random stranger.

I would give my lunch and coat to the homeless man, in hopes he might not freeze to death in the night.

A saint.

A martyr.

A coward.

The truth is... I am a coward. I am too terribly frightened to show the world the pitiful, wretched excuse of a human being hiding behind my many coats and hats.

I know the world would shun me:

The woman who longs for luxury.

The woman who might quite like to be a queen amongst peasants.

The woman who smiles to your face and cackles bitterly behind your back.

The truth is... I don't even know who I am anymore, because in my deepest, darkest heart... I would sacrifice myself for a stranger. I would give away my very last penny to feed the hungry. I would forsake my every desire, just to see my children smile a little more often.

But. I would feel bitterly, wretchedly sorry for myself with every 'selfless' action.

So here I stay, trapped always in a war with my own conscience, tearing me in half, and feeding my scraps to the needy, desperate for respite, but always starving to feed their pleas. A coward. A martyr. A monster. The most selfish of the selfless.