Since the beginning of the year, I have tried my best to be the best. To be perfect. Academically, I excelled, but… I lost track of my quirks and the small things that make me, ME. I didn’t allow myself to have fun, because, what if I slipped up and screwed up a friendship, or worse, defaced my reputation? I kept a tight leash on who I was, monitored every word I said, and, if I so much as thought I had said anything remotely stupid, I’d berate myself, ask myself why do you have to be such an utter failure?
Needless to say, I am suffocating. I don’t feel myself anymore. I feel like a robot. I just… I care to much about what people think of me. And, I don’t even know why that should be important to me.
I am the furthest thing from perfect. I am flawed. And while I truly believe we should always aspire to be a better person, to be better tomorrow than we are today… how much better are we talking about? i tried so hard to erase who I am, to paint a picture worth far more than the Mona Lisa, but… all I saw after I had made the briefest stroke on that canvas was failure. So I erased once more. And I still don’t know what I am trying to paint.
I want to be friendly, sweet. Easy going. Loving. Understanding. And I want to paint the entire world the color of my love. But… I have to start with me. But, I don’t quite know where to start, or even what to paint.