Self- Doubt.
It slays away at your heart every day.
Cutting, stabbing, slicing up every inch of love you have for yourself.
Even on the good days,
The days that seem perfectly fine, you have that internal voice telling you how you should be, what you should wear and how you should act or feel.
After all, you don't want to disappoint anyone.
There's no escaping such torment and self-destruction.
You try.
Oh my, how you try...
Why do we do this to ourselves?
Why must we try so hard for perfection, deliberately killing ourselves from the inside out, when perfection itself doesn't even exist?
We have to do better.
We have to BE better.
YOU ARE READING
The Diary of Her
Poetry"I let her go because I knew she could do better. And now she's gone. I wonder if I should've just been better."
