The most difficult thing in life is to know yourself.– Thales
I know that I’m more dreamy than I should be. That I idealize a world that may never be. That I believe in people more than I believe in myself. That I will always give the benefit of the doubt.
I know I am a perfectionist who is never good enough. Trying to live up the standards that the world has created for me. Trying to fit in with the norms of society. Blending in almost seamlessly.
But no matter how much I try, I still sometimes feel out-of-place. A strange actor playing out the best parts of my persona. My act is well prepared. Cue flawless smile. Insert words of empathy. Look at the camera. But hold your tongue (because what you’re about to say isn’t normal). Isn’t she a crowd pleaser?
Anticipate! Can’t you see that they only want happy, productive people in society? No one wants to see the brooding mess inside all of us.
Is that why I like seeing the raw, terrible, agony of being human? Is that why I like broken things and broken people? Do I like to fix broken people to fix the broken parts of myself?
I know myself to admit that I care more than I should. And that a lot of my care is wasted because it’s not for my benefit. It’s given wholeheartedly into the abyss.
I give without asking for anything back. I give and give, and I realize I have gained nothing. In the inside, I am empty; I did not give anything to myself.
Why do I give like it fills up the nothingness inside of me? What is it that I truly want?
Do I want someone to do the same for me?
I want me to give meaning to myself. Give in to my abyss.