Sunday, 7th September 2014
When what you do isn’t good enough is it even worth trying?
It’s quite a depressing thought but when life hands you lemons sometimes they’re too sour to make lemonade with, you just need to throw them out. I’ve tried finding my way but the leash on my neck gets yanked before I can get far enough to touch greener pastures. I’m reminded that I’m not worth it. That my purpose is not self discovery and growth, but rather fulfilling duties to please others: parents, relatives, friends. It comes to a point where I don’t know who I am anymore or whether it’s worth finding out. Now I’m too scared to. I might not like what I see; a coward that can’t tell people to stop, a pushover that doesn’t want to hurt people because she knows all too well just how much it hurts.
It makes you wonder whether people see it and turn a blind eye because they simply don’t care about you or whether people really never want to delve deeper because then they’d have to help pick up the pieces. It boils down to whether they can’t be bothered enough about you, or just simply can’t be bothered.
So it brings me back to my question from earlier. Is it worth trying? Why try? I don’t know anymore. I’m going through motions, afraid of stepping on feet, forsaking dreams and hobbies because I simply have nowhere to put them. I’m filled to the brim with instructions and forced aspirations I can’t remember what I wanted to do in the first place. And if I can’t remember it, if I couldn’t fight for it, did I ever deserve to want it?
Now someone else’s dream is mine and I’m living it. Someone else’s words are mine and I’m saying them. Someone else’s thoughts are mine and I’m thinking them. Someone else’s life is mine and I’m living it. I’m surviving it.
So what does that make me?