Tag Archives: good enough

Good enough

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I have to write today. Thanks keppra for making me a creative tripped out mess seeking redemption or at least a peace that is in short supply.

I’m laying here, boiling in a broth of my own making
Locked in my little corner of the world
Isolated as if this room were an island far removed from the “regular” world
And in this room I look and catalogue my faults
List my should do’s
Alphabetize my failures
And look at a unsure future in which I am terrified and tired of each and every moment of decision
I am paralyzed by my own mistakes
So sure I will face another moment of not being good enough
And what, if there is such a thing, is good enough?
Who has ever attained such an ideal?
Why can’t I accept my flaws and recognize that the lines on my face were earned by surviving happy times… And bitter ones.
I have survived but have I began to live?
Hallmark cards and travel magazines and commercials for penis hardening meds say I haven’t.
I’ve never had a picture perfect family, taken incredible journeys where the tour I take isn’t on any map but was created by knowledgeable 200 year old locals who, by virtue of their foreignness, are way cooler than I, or had a romance where, after a decade together, he still wants to cuddle me in the light of a dying sun.
I am not the girl you see in those ads.
Mine is the face of a single mother who has been perpetually heartbroken for years and sees each moment as another reason I will be heartbroken again.
Afraid of love yet stupidly open to it.
Hopeful in spite of myself… I plunge ahead dodging bullets as they pass.
People say “when will you marry?”
I wonder when it will end.
So sure am I that I am not the one for anyone.
I sigh to myself and move forward because certain death is the end of the story and I’m not going to waste the writing of it… Even if it means surviving the lines and the heartache.