I know who I am. I know that I am a good person, and that I
try each and every single day to become a better person than I was yesterday. I
know that I am dependable; that I am capable of taking the weight of the world
off of your shoulders onto mine. I know I am stubborn; so stubborn that I
refuse to admit that there are times when I am the one who needs a shoulder to
cry on. I know that I get flustered easily, that I need an order to everything
and everything to that order in order for me to function. I know that
sometimes, all of this is a lie.
There are times when I look in the mirror and I don’t like
the person looking back at me. I have to pretend and dress up as another just
so that the reflection I see is one that I can accept. She is the one who is
weak. The one who cries herself to sleep at night because of her useless
thoughts. She is the one who is feeble. She is weak. She is the one to whom the
world shuns and screams “You will never be good enough!”
There are times when the many voices in my head tell me a
thousand different things and I struggled to understand even one. They tell me
of the many evils of the world, of the countless good I have not done, of the
feelings I pushed away, of the people I have wronged and the people who I have
done wring by doing right. Sometimes the only way to shut them out is to drown
them with my own screams and tears. Yet I never cry. I never cry.
I wonder if after all this, do I really know who I am? Or am
I a confused imp floating the space that I call my world in hopes of achieving
something; and yet understanding nothing. It is said that the more you learn,
the more you come to the realization of things you don’t know. And I indeed, do
not know much.
- - Rantings of the non-delusional-
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