"You have been broken many times and each time you openly tell yourself you deserved that. You have been thinking that you got hurt because of you. They have destroyed you because of you. As this happened many times already, you say you're used to it, and that it's okay. Have you ever believed, even for once, that you are more than what they made you think you are? That you are more than the sadness you've been living with?"
"I don't feel comfortable with this sadness I've been carrying this whole time. I want it to be gone. I really do. But it seems like no matter how much I try to get rid of it, it sticks with me. It likes to lurk within me and reveal itself in situations I don't want it there to be. Wherever I go, it goes with me. Whoever I love, it still thinks it belongs with me. I tried my best, gave my all, but I still got hurt. They still hurt me. I still become sad. Maybe because somethiing is wrong with me. It's because of me. And I've just come to accept it. It happened before. It will, for sure, happen again."
"You feel uncomfortable with it but accepted it. You know it's not good for you but you're okay with just being like that. I don't understand why you would be okay having these perspectives, or with living like this. Don't you have enough love for yourself to know that you deserve so much more?"
"I love myself, of course. But maybe I'm meant to be sad and hurt and broken. I'll just be okay with that. I'm actually okay with that now."
And as I was listening to her last words, I felt really sorry for her. For those weren't the words of someone who loves herself.
YOU ARE READING
Mediocrity
PoetryA collection of poetry and prose that border on mediocrity. Do not expect anything great here.
