I don’t know a lot about the world.
Sometimes I think I do.
Sometimes I feel like an idiot.
I walk around, all high and mighty.
Like I know everything.
Like I’m perfect.
And I criticize others for doing this.
But really I am no better.
I don’t want to admit it.
But it’s been killing me.
That I’m not good at a lot of things that I think I am.
That there are many others out there who are better than me.
That there are many others that leave my talents in the dust.
That I’m not that good at much.
And that all I have is my writing.
And even that is slipping away.
And this jealousy, I cannot control it.
I cannot stop it.
I can’t help feeling that I’m not as special as I think I am.
That I’m no better than the ones I put below me.
That who I want to be is not who I am.
And that I am slowly losing sight of myself, when I haven’t even seen it.
Will I be found?
Undefined
Comments are closed.
1 Likes
761 Views
Share:
I’m not sure what headspace I was in when I was writing this. I just wanted to get some things off my chest.