all grown up and no place to go
At this point, I have said and done enough. I have worked hard, I have talked myself in circles, I have done it all and I still have so much to do, and nothing makes me feel any different. I wake up scared inside myself - scared to be inside myself, to be so inherently not enough that I have to feel it all the time. Not enough - not for someone, but not enough for myself. Framing existential anxiety as your own fault is one hell of a thing.
things are working out okay. things are working out okay. things are working out okay. things are working out okay. things are working out okay. things are working out okay. things are working out okay. things are working out okay.
deserve
No matter how much I do or how far I go, I will always be stuck with me, and what is that if not a dirty trick? I could have been anyone, and instead I am this. And this is actually fine or good - this, me, makes a difference to the people around them, changes things for the better, and does the work. But, y’know, I could’ve been Someone. I could have been Enough. Whatever that means. Enough is a moving goalpost - an amount of labour a day, an amount of contribution to society, an amount of problems to solve, countries to visit, family members with whom to reconcile. Enough is too much. I could have been enough.
just so you know, ‘good enough’ is a capitalist construct designed to get us all to put up with hell and make us feel guilty for wanting different.
EN OU GH!
people are literally out here dying, and i am mourning not being a big deal, not that i have any concept of what i want to do or who i want to help, and not that i don’t do it all as it is.
i am FINE, and my life is VALID, and i don’t need to be a billionaire or a CEO or ANYONE AT ALL to be OK
it’s a heavy feeling…
but it’s all in your head!