Who I am now does not reflect someone who is meant to be there.
I’m smoking a cheap disposable to feel something.
My finances are nowhere near together.
I’m contemplating my life and decisions while actively watching myself not do a thing to improve slightly in each day.
Yes on the surface it seems untrue, but it is not.
I complain about things I choose to hold onto,
I latch on those who make it easier to run from myself,
All while questioning perceived betrayals and abandonment.
I am that in pure form to myself, and my life is a reflection of those inadequacies that are ultimately unresolved.
I realize pushing and begging for something halfhearted with nothing to show is entitlement disguised as fighting for myself.
I claimed to want to be an advocate,
yet abuse myself in ways I call shame and karma.
Those are the shadows I live in
while driving it all to the point of no return.
Now what?
It all falls and I am left to rebuild—
except I reject the opportunities in learning the lesson.
There’s some twisted sense of martyrdom doing things the hard way,
all to have a dataset of things I don’t know what are being used for.
The sake of pushing what I want away
because sitting with myself and expressing it is a lot harder to bear.
It’s facing all the answers to the questions used to pin my worth down
to reasons why I am no good.
Strange phenomenon from a strained perspective.
