I detest days when exhaustion kicks in but my head and thoughts continue racing like a high-speed car race on the highways. I do not know how people look at me. They do that and see the good within and continue loving me for who I am. The good that I have been struggle to find. I know making comparisons can only make me spiral deeper into this never-ending hole of insecurities and paranoia. If I could, I would, it seems so easy to spot the best in others but I am never capable of doing the same for myself. I am always so easily contented with the simplest of things; a silly doodle or joke on pages of textbooks, old notes passed around during class that are kept as memorabilia, photographs. But it is never the case when it comes to being contented with who I am. That's just me, constantly on the search of something better within myself, constantly trying to make myself better for others. Sometimes I think of myself as a puzzle on the back of some Sunday newspaper, spot the difference and pinpoint the flaws. I wish it can be easier to let myself down, like how people can disappoint others but just shake hands, walk away like nothing ever happened. I wish I knew what it is like when people look at me, because when I do, all I see is things better left unloved. I see my flaws, the things I hate about my physique, the shoes I am never good enough to fill, the things I cannot do that others can, the disappointment I have left in others, the things I left unfinished, the words I could not make good, and the hurt I wish I can take away and protect them from. I would give anything to have someone else's eyes just for a day, or an hour to say the least. Wouldn't it be perfect, to be down in the dumps, but being able to get the assurance you need. Being able to know that you may have failed, and you may not be good at that one thing, but you definitely are worth it. I cannot be brave, my eyes are those of critique and insecurity. Sometimes I think that it is so much better to be blind, than to only be able to see the ugly. I need to stop being so hard on myself. I need to start loving myself. No one would ever want eyes like mine.
Friday, February 17, 2012
Your pen's waiting for you
I detest days when exhaustion kicks in but my head and thoughts continue racing like a high-speed car race on the highways. I do not know how people look at me. They do that and see the good within and continue loving me for who I am. The good that I have been struggle to find. I know making comparisons can only make me spiral deeper into this never-ending hole of insecurities and paranoia. If I could, I would, it seems so easy to spot the best in others but I am never capable of doing the same for myself. I am always so easily contented with the simplest of things; a silly doodle or joke on pages of textbooks, old notes passed around during class that are kept as memorabilia, photographs. But it is never the case when it comes to being contented with who I am. That's just me, constantly on the search of something better within myself, constantly trying to make myself better for others. Sometimes I think of myself as a puzzle on the back of some Sunday newspaper, spot the difference and pinpoint the flaws. I wish it can be easier to let myself down, like how people can disappoint others but just shake hands, walk away like nothing ever happened. I wish I knew what it is like when people look at me, because when I do, all I see is things better left unloved. I see my flaws, the things I hate about my physique, the shoes I am never good enough to fill, the things I cannot do that others can, the disappointment I have left in others, the things I left unfinished, the words I could not make good, and the hurt I wish I can take away and protect them from. I would give anything to have someone else's eyes just for a day, or an hour to say the least. Wouldn't it be perfect, to be down in the dumps, but being able to get the assurance you need. Being able to know that you may have failed, and you may not be good at that one thing, but you definitely are worth it. I cannot be brave, my eyes are those of critique and insecurity. Sometimes I think that it is so much better to be blind, than to only be able to see the ugly. I need to stop being so hard on myself. I need to start loving myself. No one would ever want eyes like mine.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
0 comments:
Post a Comment