She thought that this was it.
She trudged along carrying the weight of all the things she thought would bring her joy;
All the things she thought truly mattered, and made her who she was.
Each expectation cradled fears of rejection, regret, and
The suggestions of who she could be convinced her that
She could never be those things…
They seemed like distant dreams that someone
Braver than her,
Smarter than her,
More experienced than her,
Could accomplish and achieve.
Yet, she clung to them, hoping that maybe,
If she held onto them close enough,
Something would stick; that one thing would
Magically transform her into more than just
The worm she grew used to being.
And something did drift closer…
How lovesick she became,
Continuing to lack in confidence,
Deeper and deeper
Into the delusion that,
This thing was who she could be,
It’s what could help define her meaning in the world.
It could encourage her in a solid direction instead of aimlessly wandering the streets,
Searching for any and everything to
Fill her up and
Make her seem more defined and less doomed as a person…