It’s never going to be good enough. I’m never going to be good enough. People will judge me, and criticize me, mostly I will be hard on myself, bringing myself down, so down, my life won’t mean anything until I achieve absolute perfection. Writing, composing, living…My stories aren’t good enough. My life isn’t good enough. I’m never satisfied. I always want more.
Because instant gratification taught me how to get a quick fix every time I felt unsure about something, I forgot to learn patience. I forgot to take the time to take the time. I built up resentments – at the world – and mostly at myself, but for what end?
I remember the days where I was writing poetry on my notepad, and I thought the world was dark because my world was dark. This darkness engulfed every one of my dreams, pushing me to dwell deeper into a realm filled with angst and sadness. I was not satisfied with who I was. I hated myself, thought I was stupid, ugly, unworthy of attention and love. Because I thought I wasn’t good enough. I compared myself to others, thought they were better than me when really, they weren’t. Schoolmates were jealous of me. I never understood why. How could people envy me if I wasn’t good enough?
The image I projected wasn’t the image I had of myself. People saw me as a smart, outgoing girl, and I posed a threat. I saw myself as an outcast and a freak. Teenagehood worsened my darkest feelings of shame and guilt. I didn’t fit in. I didn’t know how to be popular. I didn’t know how to be liked.
I competed against myself. Changed my image, transformed the awkwardness into confidence. Yet again, I stood behind a wall of smoke. I lied, pretended I could be someone I wasn’t. I never liked people. I never liked going to parties and hanging out at clubs, high on drugs, tripping in my own world of fear. There wasn’t a moment in my life where I didn’t ask myself why I was doing the things I was doing. No one cared how much I could drink besides me. No one cared how hard I fought but me.
Because I always thought I wasn’t good enough. I could always do better. As I continue my journey writing stories, I take a good look at myself and wonder how good my storytelling truly is. But at this point, I don’t care. I have something to say, and I say it. Words come out, and carry a message. If only one person reads my stories, and understands my message, then my job is done.
Art isn’t about fame. It’s about doing what you love. I could be very successful making money off selling my books, not having a day job anymore, but would I truly be happy? I’d be happy writing all day. I wouldn’t be happy to be in the spotlight every single moment of my life. The stuff I say isn’t for everyone. I’m not unique in the sense many people have gone through tough times and made it. I’m not unique in the sense many people are addicts, and depend on substances to escape from reality. I’m not unique in the sense my writing carries a message many others have carried throughout the centuries.
But I’m unique because I’m me. And despite thinking I’m not good enough, I am good enough for me. I am loved – because I love me. The little girl with short hair and glasses sitting in a corner, writing on her notepad about death, is still by my side, When I look at her, I smile. That little girl is brave. That little girl is a fighter. That little girl has crossed an ocean to make her dreams come true, and she never let anyone break her spirit.
Because enough is relative. Enough is never quantified. There’s no scale of enough. Today, I look at myself and thank God for everything: the good, the bad and the ugly. No one is more perfect than me. No one is less imperfect than me. I am a writer, a woman, a little girl with dreams. And that innocence will never be tainted by self-loathing, self-depreciation and hatred.
Today, enough is garbage. And love is everything.
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I just posted a blog about negative self talk and this really struck me as matching up well with it. You are a very talented writer and painted quite the picture here. Hope you don’t mind if I go add a link to this from my post. 🙂
Absolutely!! Please do. 🙂
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And so we want more…