I feel like I’m always doing the most. Trying to be the perfect role model, the ideal dating material, the politically correct writer, the consistent mentee, the most badass revolutionary, the considerate sister and the greatest friend.
I’m fucking exhausted.
I feel like I don’t even know who I am sometimes because I’m so goddamn busy trying to be everything for everyone around me YET none of these people I’m making sacrifices for on a daily basis even see me, they don’t. It’s easy to only recognize the convenient aspects of my persona. It’s so much easier to only acknowledge where I’ve failed than to acknowledge all I’ve encountered to get to where I am. It’s easier to criticize me, expecting perfection, than to give me a break and let me be the flawed human being I’m supposed to be. It’s not even about blame… ever, because I understand that those around me are products of their environments too, but how can I avoid being so deeply affected by their hurtful words and harsh perspectives? I mean, sticks and stones break bones but bones heal and sometimes words leave wounds that the eyes can’t see, making us think we’re unaffected when the bleeding is actually internal. And even when words don’t immediately hurt, at times they linger, waiting where my consciousness and confidence meet, anticipating my moments of frailty in order to inhabit my psyche and beat me to a pulp. See, somedays I’m more gifted at silencing the noise of the world but on others, I’m too tired to even try. Already feeling the weight of everything else I’m confronted by; patriarchy, poverty, oppression, hatred, the overall darkness of the world.
… I love being me; strong, smart, bold and fearless, the only issue with being me is that people often forget I can’t always be the being they idealize, I am a soul who lives and breathes duality. Thus I am left a divided soul, struggling to balance self-love with all love in a world so lost in understanding either term with sufficient depth.