Never Good Enough

I write because my hand can’t follow instructions to draw. Even in writing I still fail to meet the standard. But I am bursting at the seams and my relief valve has been set only through words.

I want to take all the anger in my head and project it onto a screen. Played before me like a movie. A feature presentation to show those around me how it feels to live trapped inside my mind. A place full of doubt, inadequacy and anxiety. Still with a glimmer of hope deep in the pits of my soul.

I didn’t use to be like this. I was optimistic and hopeful. I felt capable and strong. When I was alone in my mind, the world I created was happy. Controversy didn’t exist and my self-image was smiling at me in every reflection. Voices from outside penetrated my skull of security and the scene began to shift. The dialogue of hostility.

Over and over, I have allowed external forces to plant seeds of discontent in the fields of my mind. Weeds and vines have strangled what was, and now consumes the space I used to flee. My growth hindered from the negativity that surrounds me.

Conditioning that continued for so long that now those seeds are planted by me. The words of hate are spoken in my voice. As if I created them and had felt this way all along. Eventually I convinced myself that it wasn’t anyone else but me. Tearing myself up from the inside and just watching me bleed.