The sad thing is, nobody ever really knows how much anyone else is hurting. We could be standing next to somebody who is completely broken and we wouldn’t even know it…but maybe I do expect too much.

I value people’s views concerning me. Simply, I cherish to the entire capacity, each individual connection built with the people that surround me.

I’m known to wear my confidence boldly on my sleeves; yet, somehow still fall short of my own standards, contradicting myself by feeling so insecure. My mom always told me: be mindful of how you carry yourself, it is the biggest impression you can ever-present to someone. Sure mom but is it sad to say I regularly feel as if I fail people in numerous ways; that most days I feel inadequate or unacceptable? 

Someone said to me today, “why isn’t anything good enough for you?” Stunned and taken aback by the revelation of ever having a need to identify things as “enough”, I grinned amused by this person’s assumptions of my standards.

I coexist inside the mind that is possessed by this body but through her eyes, I do not see. With her limbs, I can not feel. I exist only where there are trees. I live in clouds above the seas. A little less hate, it’s love she needs. Please don’t leave, come and stay, she pleads. Her mind is dark, blood drips down her sleeves. I do not exist, I can not feel her needs. To her, darkness is bliss, inside she bleeds. So what is enough, when love misleads.

Enough of what really? Things aren’t consistent enough, to maintain a healthy balance. Am I the only one who enjoys having a comfortable pattern, but life itself isn’t made to be that way. I understand. Momma also said: when everyone in your life is at peace, things flow easier.

I’m sorry.

Tell me, is wanting to enclose your heart in the walls of my love, where you will never walk alone, enough?


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