In Principio

disillusioned soldier

I am a disillusioned soldier,
So lost I cannot find my way back.
Subdued by the ever present throngs
Choking in the grasp of their pressure
"Not good enough"
echoing around my head because I'm good but not enough not smart enough not pretty enough not fit enough always being compared little soldier falling behind in her rank
Working so hard all the time for a hazy unwritten future in the distance
but unquestionably working because it's what I must.
Scared to be alone, average, alive
Not allowing myself to feel happy nor sad, pride nor guilt, not acceptable at all
I myself am not acceptable
And now, after toggling and dallying with emotions and whirling through thoughts of thoughts of thoughts
I
am tired, and I feel it in the deep marrow of my bones, and I know that even as I write this my words do not rank to par, that they are just some more text on a page some burned out teenager once wrote, and to me they are not acceptable, but they must suffice,
and I know I could do better and I once did so much better but now I can't because something has shifted and I wait every single day for it to shift back, to figure out what it is and how I can go back to the happy days to the stress-free comparison-less pressure-lifted times where I felt better about myself and my life and didn't dread the years to come didn't have to constantly doubt myself and my choices every one being made but I know I can't.
And it crushes me even more.