It's almost paradoxical
My mind, that is:
How strongly I will for perfection
Yet could care less of my own achievements.
Every word,
Every stroke,
Every placement I create
Must be done without error—
If it's not perfect,
It's not good enough.
Good enough...
Never good enough
Always room to grow
And if I'm not progressing
I'm regressing
Although
In my eyes
There's always someone better.
So why bother trying?
For I will never be the perfect I strive for
There will always be someone acknowledged, rather than I
Since I'm never
Good enough.
I feel like breaking down
Permeating
Disintegrating
Into the solid earth...
But I can't.
For the world doesn't revolve around me
And there are more important things
than being the happiest I can be.
Because crying doesn't solve problems
And giving up doesn't create solutions.
So for now
As I float through existence,
In and out of every day
I can't help but thinking:
I could be a better person
A better friend and companion,
A better daughter and sister,
A better student and teacher.
Then again
No one will probably notice anyways
Whether I improve or not
Since no one ever has.
YOU ARE READING
My Human Experience
PoetryA collection of poetry pieces I've written over the years. I've decided to share some here in case they tickle anyone's interests. Doesn't need to be read in a specific order ~ Mental illness isn't pretty or aesthetic, but writing it out and reading...
