The Battle to Accept Myself

I have lived my life following the belief that I was not good enough; I was living in a constant state of limbo between who I was and who society wanted me to be.


Inside of me, there is a miniature replica of the person I was and who I will be, all layered together like a set of Russian nesting dolls. There was a time when my own perception of who I was had escalated to a point where I was no longer happy. One night I woke up in complete hysteria to the overwhelming negative thoughts that were smothering my subconscious. It was during that emotional breakdown when I was in awe of the image I was envisioning; a miniature replica of myself, trapped inside my body, that was begging for the pain to stop. Two years ago, I had an epiphany that I was emotionally abusing myself, that no one deserved to inflict pain on anyone, especially not themselves.

It has been two years since and during that time frame, I wrote out two poems/creative writing fragments of my own train of thought, when my emotional abuse had first begun to the current state of its resurfacing.


I Am A Scab

I am a scab, ready to start a new yet inching with the pre-exposed notion of pain. I brace myself for the fresh beginnings that I know are soon to come but I can not forget the scars that will forever mark my past. All I see now are the red, blotchy underlying features that are colored in every inch of my body, yet I continue to pick and pick at the excruciating details that I can not overcome. I stare aimlessly as my eyes begin to unfocus yet my mind readjusts into the negative headspace that is my own flaws. I personally can not blink an eye at my own flaws and blemishes that then causes me to inflict them in the first place. I am the innkeeper of my own insecurities, I am a scab.

I’m Sorry

To make matters worse you’re a stranger to me now. I’m sorry I’m being “dramatic” I’m sorry I’m being “self-centered” I’m sorry that I couldn’t be everything you needed. But all I want to know is when can I stop apologizing for unnecessary things. When will I ever hear an apology from you? When can I stop being sorry for myself? I spend my life as a puppet to society, to whatever anyone deems the correct way for me to act, I’m stepping on eggshells even when I’m waving my white flag. It’s sickening that I’m both the bystander to my own abuse but also that I’m the one that has to pick up the pieces- the doll of myself that I don’t recognize. When will it be enough because, at this point, I can’t even recognize myself?