2012 is about swallowing the pill. Self-evaluation. Growth. Progress. No matter how bitter the pill tastes.
I generally don’t need anyone to impose harm or judgement upon me. I have a condition, which does that all too well. It’s called self-sabotage. It is a sickness that tears me from potential happiness, and that growth I profess so much to want.
Nothing is off limits. Nothing is safe from the plague. It usually starts with small things and grows swiftly to engulf those things that are near and dear to my heart. They never intended to…he must be lying…he favors the other one…why bother, nothing will make it look better…this is not your year…prepare to be alone…they didn’t because they really don’t…it’s all just a game…there’s nothing special about you…why would anyone bother…it’s not that good anyway…your time is running out…he’ll see you for what you are soon enough…
It’s a soft voice in the back of my head, much like my own but hateful. To me. To the world. It’s a drop in the pit of my stomach, a racing of my heart when I realize nothing is what I thought it was. It tells me to push everything away. Because, then, it will have been my choice versus the alternative. That which burns the soul.
And I struggle. Because I want to believe that there is no truth to it. They do want me to succeed. He’s telling the truth. He loves me equally. It looks just fine. This is my year. There is someone out there who wants me for ME. They really do care. It’s not a game at all. I am special. Someone doesn’t see me as a bother. It’s quite good for a first. He isn’t going to stop seeing me as a good person. He will know my heart is good.
I want to believe that. I want something to snap me out of the self-deprecation. I want something to click. To show me something brighter. Possibility. Growth. Progress. Worth.
She’s just a writer writing about her life. She’s just a girl sitting in her apartment writing about nothing. Synonymous.