Sighs... I haven't written in weeks. It's probably not up to three weeks, but it feels eternal.
Now, originally, I'm a poet. I write poems for the fun of it. I write because it's therapeutic. But lately, I see that I've lost my way. Lost myself in this mess that we call life. And I wonder each day how to keep on breathing, moving and working like the perfect picture I paint.
Do you ever just feel like a fraud?—That you do not deserve everything you've built?
I rarely feel comfortable in my own skin. And what's worse? This feeling keeps increasing more and more as I climb my way up to the top. It's a constant struggle between hate and love in my head. I myself can't fathom the reason behind this looming self-dissatisfaction.
Could it be depression? I ask myself again and again. Why am I afraid of success? Is this a case of trauma? Or is it normal?
Ever felt this way?
XOXO
🔥
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