TOL: Inferiority

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I have a horrible case of inferiority.

I don’t believe anything I do is amazing. I’m always striving to be better, because I can be better, I will be better. How can I celebrate when there’s so many people out there who have accomplished so much more than me?

I don’t believe that I’m beautiful. I doubt sincere feelings, believing that I’m trying to make a show of something. Am I only trying to be nice because I want others to perceive me that way? Who am I truly? I don’t believe that anything I do is out of pure selflessness, and as soon as I find my motivation, I perceive my soul as ugly, worthless.

inferiority

I don’t believe that anyone could love me. I am not deserving of anything as pure as that, as beautiful or as rich. My imperfections are not capable of being loved by anyone, not even by myself. The more secrets I hide away, the more terrible they become in my crowded corner, never seeing the daylight and absorbing more of the darkness that engulfs me. They become a reason for me not to put myself out there, a reason to not say yes, a reason to not keep on trying.

Maybe this is why I can never hold onto anything good that I’ve got, because no matter how much it belongs to you, it’s always liable to slip away if you don’t grasp on tight. I would let go, assuring myself that I wasn’t good enough, or that the next person whom it belonged to was more deserving, better than me. But if I had held on, I swear I would’ve taken three times as much care of it as the next person has.

And then I tell myself, or he whispers in my ear—

Maybe I am amazing.
Maybe I am beautiful.
Maybe I am deserving.

And a small strand of hope runs through me just before the next waves of inferiority crash in.

-hils
Website: https://owlonabraintree.wordpress.com
This post is part of a series of posts called Thoughts on Life.

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2 thoughts on “TOL: Inferiority

  1. i think maybe is probably. (someone strung these words together, felt these feelings, and both are remarkable.) i do know the feeling. i get so angry sometimes about how many years my mental illness stole from me. how awesome i /could/ have been. but i try hard to nestle in the moment and enjoy where i am in life. it’s not hell. it’s not the gulag. not those things. not usually. remember this is how you feel now. it is not forever. i say it a lot, but nothing is. love.

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