Losing it.

My biggest fear is never being good

I’ve gathered enough proof to
convince myself that my biggest fear is real. I am never thin enough, or pretty
enough, or talented enough, or intelligent enough. And before you think this is
just me indulging in a whine fest, it’s not; it simply is, as there are people
who seem to smile at the slightest provocation, or others who are terminally
eager to please. My kneejerk reaction to other people’s expectations is no, I
can’t do it.

And yet, on the surface, I
nod and say, okay, we’ll see what we can do.

I feel sad tonight, a sadness triggered
by yet more proof (according to the Book of Leigh) that I can’t close the last
millimeter between good and good enough. So tonight is saved for moping, and
listening to Dar Williams, and fitful napping. Teye says I am allowed to mope,
and she’ll take me shopping tomorrow.

“And the world’s not falling
apart/the world’s not falling apart/because of
– Dar