To be “a star”. To shine brightly. That was what I thought I wanted. To be More Than I am. To be Seen. To have Friends. To be productive.
Maybe even To Enlighten…
Chasing and chasing and chasing this need. And what for?
I really don’t know.
I don’t know who I am. I don’t know what my purpose is. I don’t know why I’m Here.
Why is any of us here?
I like to think it’s noble things, like: “To make a difference.”
Or: “To leave something good behind.”
Or even: “To Enjoy yourself.”
But now I’m not so sure.
I’m getting older. And maybe I could brush it all aside as a Crisis of some kind. But, I think it’s more than that. I think I see that I can’t go back to who I used to be. But, I also don’t know how to go forward. Stuck in limbo for a long while now. Don’t know how to move off the spider-web’s glue. Holding me in place. Preparing for the feast.
And it hurts. Hurts, hurts, hurts every day.
Is something really wrong with me?
I don’t know cause people don’t go around talking about these kinds of things.
Am I “too” different? Weird? Complex? Unstable? Emotional? Sensitive? FEMALE?
Or, is this a common feeling – everyone has it – just don’t speak of it?
I keep looking outside me for the answers, because I Don’t want to look within. It’s too painful. Everywhere pain. And anger.
Ingratitude: I do Not value my life.
Hatred: I do Not love myself.
Loneliness: I do Not know how to connect.
I always wanted to Change this. To Fix that. To make myself Different, somehow.
Maybe more like my Sister.
But, I can’t.
I can’t! I can’t! I can’t!
And I Won’t!
I won’t! I won’t! I won’t! do that to myself anymore.
(Or, I’ll Try not to, anyway…)
Because I am me.
That’s all I am.
That’s all I’ll ever be.
(Until I die. And maybe even then…)
So, why not work to accept this mess of a human being? Why not Love her with the light of a thousand suns?
The way you always wanted Others to love (you), but they didn’t. They wouldn’t. Or they couldn’t.
Because this was your own job to do.
So do it.
No matter how long it takes.
No matter the risks.
(Isolation. Depression. Even Suicide…which yes, I think of sometimes. Don’t we all? Maybe not…)
Your work is meaningful.
Even if you don’t know (what) it (is) yet.
Your life is meaningful.
Even if you struggle to believe in it.
Keep it all.
Don’t throw yourself away.
Even when you feel like garbage.
A rose may be hidden. Just out of sight.
And even if there’s not one.
It’s okay to just be you.
It’s okay to get old.
It’s okay to die.
It’s okay Not to have Anything to leave behind.