Sometimes I forget to be proud of myself. I’ve been so hard on myself ever since the day I was born. Always striving for perfection, feeling guilty when resting & feeling like I’ve never done enough, like I never tried hard enough. But God, how hard I tried, how hard I try, every day again. But still, no matter how hard I try it feels like it’s never enough. Like I’m always falling behind and I’m wasting time. Like I’m not creating enough and should accomplish more than I did and do. It kills me, this thought of never being good enough for myself. I’m exhausting myself physically, but mentally even more. I get mad and frustrated for not reaching this unreachable standard. It’s an illusion, the standard I’m creating. When will enough be enough? When will I feel like I’ve tried hard enough… I don’t know. Because I always feel like I need to do more, see more, experience more, waste less time on thinking. God, I think so, so much. Thoughts are racing through my mind and no matter how hard I scream, no matter how much I try to cry it out, no matter how fast I write, these demons never seem to leave my mind. I’m replaying old events over and over again. Wondering where it went wrong, what I did wrong? Yet I never seem to figure out what it is. I’m torturing myself and I’m aware of the damage, but I can’t seem to escape from it, it’s almost impossible. Even though I can tame my demons in the day at times, they come to visit me at night, in my dreams. It feels so real, the images are so clear and vivid. I wake up shivering, sweating and crying my eyes out. I push my blankets of my body and grasp for air.
Living becomes a burden, when you’re so aware of every emotion. Constantly analysing the way you feel. They taught me this in therapy, but it brought me no good. Being too aware of your emotions isn’t a way to get better, it’s a way of getting obsessed. Obsessed with your own feelings and then drowing in them.
I wish I could just enjoy, but the happiness never last long. A peaceful state of mind never last longer than a few hours. I’m afraid to get excited, to get happy, because I know it’ll end very soon. I’m just so afraid of myself. I’m more dangerous to me than any person around me. I kill myself from the inside out, every day. And I’ve worked so, so hard, to become this better version of myself. But at times the castle I took so long to build just crumbles down in a split second.
So, I just need to sit down once in a while and remind myself that I’m doing well, that I’m moving forward. I should be proud of myself, even though it doesn’t feel right to be, I should be. These months have been hard. I’ve left my life behind, all of my family and friends and everything around me. I’ve been forcing myself to step out of my comfort zone, so many times and I did it a lot of times already. I’ve given love to people that don’t even deserve it, but this shows my capability of loving, of giving without expecting to receive something in return. I should be proud of myself for working on my passions, putting my art first. It’s hard to chase your dreams in a world where people are so stuck in the system. And a part of me wants to belong in that system, wants to be ‘normal’ and just be like everyone else. But I know, as soon as I’ll give in to this, I’ll lose myself. I’m an artist, a dreamer, a wanderer, which may not be born to live in a world like this, but I need to find my way around nonetheless. I just have to tell myself it’ll all be okay and I should be proud, of the mountains I’ve climbed, of following the light in me and for always staying soft and kind to a world that sometimes doesn’t deserve it.