I keep reaching out to you but I cannot seem to grasp hold of you. I cannot find you amongst the rubble, amongst the prehistoric soil. It's a perpetual game of hide and seek where the perfect version of me exists out there somewhere. On the hunt for adequacy, any hint of excellence or supremacy. I am a random puzzle piece that just cannot fit correctly within herself. She is a tempestuous one, a volatile and disconnected affliction. Why am I always so conflicted with myself? To live inside this vacant crater, this body that I had no choice in? I never loved what I saw in the mirror. I've tried to accommodate myself but I always end up at odds with myself instead. How can you love yourself when you can't even look past your own flaws and inaccuracies? I can't build myself up despite wanting to climb higher. I can only push myself forward in order to prove I am capable. I have to crawl faster just to out smart the me that is always dragging me down. There is a doppelganger that continues to offend me so. There is a double that masquerades as me but I am the better one. She is the amount of self-esteem I just cannot contain. Anxiety is a curse I have learned to live with. I can't help but loathe this part of me that just ridicules me so. She points the finger at me, wondering why I can never measure up. As high as our standards are, we can never meet nor exceed our own expectations. We fall short of our sense of self-respect. I have kept us alive despite never giving us a reason why. I cannot get my own reassurance nor validation from myself. There is tremendous lack of confidence that I just never had. How can you afford worthiness with no spine? I continue to search for her, the me that I'm so jealous of. I'm so envious of a clone that has outperformed me in every aspect of my life. How can I beat her when I cannot be her? How can people reunite with themselves and regain composure? I can't continue to disregard myself. I keep reaching out for you but you won't take my hand. I keep on your trail just for the scent to turn cold. Please don't abandon me here. You're all I've got. You're my last sense of hope in this desolate landscape. I keep praying I'll find you. I pray you're looking for me too.
About the Creator
Anna Torres
I’m a 39-year old mother and student. I love reading, metal music, and writing. I have begun writing again since 2021


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