it is a seminal fact of my life that, no matter what i do, i'll never be good enough for what i want.
i'm not good enough to have a boyfriend. i'm not good enough to have a real job. i'm not good enough to be published. i'm not good enough to have a life. so i don't even try anymore.
i've been walking around for a week now with an ache centered between and just above my collarbones. when i look in the mirror i'm amazed it's not visible, this lump. i feel it every time i swallow, every time i start thinking too much, when i lie down to sleep at night and when i wake up in terror at 4 am for no reason.
there's no reason to be on the verge of tears all the time. nothing is outstandingly bad in my life; in fact, a few new friendships are opening up. but i've been teetering on the edge anyway. tightly wound. the slightest unexpected change in my environment and i'm off like a roman candle, freaking hard.
it feels like in high school. i did everything right -- national merit, winning contests, scholarship to baylor, everyone wanted to give me some sort of fucking award for *something*. and i took all of these nice little pieces of paper home and said "look. i am good enough at last." wordlessly each piece was received, scanned, torn up and thrown away.
now there's no one specific to bring the prizes to, so i just show them to the world. the world is somewhat less than impressed.
i think if the tears would just *come*, i'd feel better. probably why i can't cry.
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sine | deb
struggling to carry a feather that weighs a ton