Thought: I Am Not Good Enough

Toxicity—externally—is chugging the bottle of tequila and blacking out at your local bar. It’s numbing out the internal affairs you have with yourself, while explicitly engaging with another empty soul. How is it easier to lay down with temptation while feeling the strokes of regret penetrating? You attempt to fill in empty promises with another human being who is just as lost as you. So, it’s two blind men guiding each other down the yellow brick road, yet not staying in between the lines.

When I was a child, I was so naïve to the destruction of my planet. I never understood how my poor thoughts were placed as bags underneath my eyes, as scars on my wrists, and/or a venomous mouth. The environment I was a part of—tore me apart. It now makes sense why I limp during certain aspects of life. I flinch when an attempt is made to make any form of physical affection, it must be the doppelgänger in me. I have mistreated the planet who formed me. I emotionally over feed it, I constantly damage it causing stains and bruises to camouflage during the day and become visible in the night. But without night vision, no one besides myself has the capability of pinpointing where exactly the damage is.

I do though. Mentally, physically. I’m exhausted. I take off my masks and air ‘em out until I need them again. I spend the majority of my money on companies who are worth more than I will ever experience; my biggest enemy is myself. The thought of being beautiful, strong, ambitious, and inspiring is a perspective I want to see. Unfortunately, my lens is focused solely on my insecurities. Have you ever met a human contradiction? If you’re my friend, please do not lie to yourself as I do—own up to it and say yes. It’s me. I’m the human contradiction. At work, I’m a leader, and I am stern enough to say no. At school, I’m a nerd, and I am knowledgeable enough to open my ears to keep from a close-minded personality.

But in these four walls I am frantic, broken, lost, overwhelmed, depressed, angry, bitter, and lonely. When I’m around people I force my doppelgänger to socialize, while I screen mirror my emotions. I quote tweet a lot of “lmao’s” on traumatic posts, because I like my humor how I like my men. I tag users in posts labeling “@ me” on traumatic posts because I can’t communicate, I need help. I share posts on mental health flaws and add my perspective but hide behind the shadow of “my friends.”

Do not ask me out on a date because I’m already taken by depression. Do not make eye contact with me because my anxiety will trigger my mind but shut down my mouth. I would count the times fear cock blocked my future husband and I’s relationship so—just imagine Shaq shooting free throws and you’ll get the picture.