I thought I used to know who I was. Sure it was probably heavily coated in denial and completely made up of false bravado, but no one would have been the wiser.
It was all smoke and mirrors. A facade I created to hide how loathsome I felt towards myself. How defeated I was on the inside. Just eager for people to like me, maybe even love me.
I buried those feelings. I hid so much from myself that who I often pretended to be seemed to overtake me. But it was still there, deep inside driving my every move like the Great and Powerful Oz. Seemingly larger than life, but really just a meek persona hiding behind a curtain.
Once I came to terms with myself, shed that outer shell like a snake does its skin, I realized I had forgotten who I used to be. I was so deep inside myself that I didn't recognize me. I was lost.
I became so exposed, so vulnerable. Like a burn victim in the sun, I seethe trying to figure out what is supposed to be now. My new found raw emotion festering and blistering about me.
I feel somewhat worthless. Unlovable. That no matter how hard I try to free myself from those demons who possessed me for so long, that nothing I do will ever be seen as right. As good enough.
I never longed for what most little girls did. I didn't see my future with husband or children or domestic duties. I never looked that far. I skipped over the "living" part of life and only saw what I hoped. I saw my remembrance posthumously. I saw myself writing.
Even there I have failed. I started to blog to share what I thought was the only gift I had. The only voice and outlet I could control. I have fallen by the wayside. In every facet of my life.
I don't know how I became so broken. So horribly misguided. More alone than I have ever felt in a time I should feel completely fulfilled.
Even though I got what I never knew I always wanted, I feel broken....and scared that no matter how much love I have to give, no matter how much effort I put forth, it will never be enough.
That I will inevitably lose it all.
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