I know how this must sound. Generic bullshit, right? The same thing said again and again, I get it. I don’t blame the eye rolls. You might shrug this off at first glance, but I know you. You don’t think I see you, but I do.
I’ve seen you all over. I know how you look, how you smell. The sobering look in your eyes when something reminds you of your own unimportance. Your shoulders cave, back bending in ways you were told it never should. You trace your own spine, feeling for each vertebra. You are coming apart, but nobody knows.
You have designed this disguise so that nobody ever sees you crumbling. Who wants that girl? People throw stones at that girl. You’ve seen it happen. You wonder who you even are. Maybe you’ve never known. You are incognito. And I do not blame you for this. But I see you. I see you.
You mold yourself to fit wherever you think will accept you. You squeeze smaller, you are skinny jeans. You stretch to fill expectations, stand on tippy-toes and hope no one notices your shaking legs. Shrink. Pull. Push. You hide when they tell you to. You wait with a plastered on smile, ready for them to tell you it’s your turn. You don’t think you deserve a turn. You give your turn to someone else. You don’t ask for another one.
You don’t speak up. You silence your own needs, your own desires. Or maybe, you do talk. You voice these fears, these concerns. But nobody fucking listens. You think nobody listens, so you stop. You bottle it up. You take this metaphorical key and throw it in the ocean. Who even cares? You don’t. But I hear you. I care.
I cannot pretend I know every piece of you. I do not know the history, the roots that formed beneath your feet. But there is a story in every pore, every vein. You wear remnants of the past in every crease, every wrinkle. Maybe something happened that made you this way. Maybe so many things happened. But you think, no. Doesn’t matter. It’s fate. I was always meant to be this. This is me. I am not enough. I will not place blame on anybody. I will not blame them for me. I blame me. I blame me for me.
And honestly, I do blame you for you. Every choice, every step you have made. That’s on you. You are here today because of it. This is you. And you have so much more power than you can even comprehend. You are so much more than enough. Enough does not suffice. You are everything.
Do you get that? You are everything.
I know you because I was you. Sometimes, I am you. I can’t pretend you don’t lurk inside, waiting for the right moment to take control. You want to whisper in my eardrums, then shout at full volume. Go ahead. I love you. And I embrace you.
You don’t see what I do, but man, if only you could. You wouldn’t even believe it. This hurricane I’m looking at. Don’t mistake my words, you are not storm, not mess. But you are more than enough.
You are always more than enough!
Post by Ari Eastman, Thought Catalog