I was eating the leftovers from that night like a homeless dog.
By Saturday, I was turning down invitations to socialise
before they even reached my notification screen.
That's how dangerous this was.
I was the main dish, the guest of honour,
and everything was about me.
And strangely enough, that wasn't even the scariest part.
—
It turned out there were a lot of incomplete conversations I wanted to
rewrite.
Or maybe I just wanted to see her in the mirror again.
One day she will sit on my side of the mirror,
and who will she be looking up to then?
Another version, more refined?
—
Maybe becoming never actually ends.
Maybe the more you become,
the more difficult it is to stay impressed
by anything that no longer grows with you.
—
They say appetite comes with food.
I think that applies to becoming too.For a while you are full, satisfied even,
and then suddenly something shifts
and you are hungry again.
Hungrier than before.
—
I can no longer distinguish between the good and the bad side of this
change.
I have entirely lost interest in simple conversations,
cheap gossip, random men, even when they are attractive.
It's like I have been completely swallowed by myself.
Not in some obnoxious way.
More in a "I didn't know I was such an interesting person" kind of way.
Funny thing is,
"Maybe I'm not good enough" slowly turned into "He is a complete idiot."
And that shift happened so quietly I almost missed it.
—
I don't want to lose touch with reality,
but reality has so much less to offer lately.
Same talks. Same drinks.
Same people repeating the same insecurities in different outfits.
How long can someone stay impressed by that?
—
Mom asked me yesterday, worried,
"How can you always be alone? You need to meet people."
So I asked her back,"Have you ever sat at a table full of people
and still felt like you weren't really there?
Like the only thing crossing your mind was:
I could have been writing right now.
What is the point?"
She couldn't answer.
And maybe that scared me more than the question itself.
Because all my life I felt like I was missing something if I wasn't at the
table.
Now I feel like I am missing something if I am.
—
So is this growth or just another addiction wearing expensive language?
—
I owe it to myself to discover the woman in the mirror
and bring her fully to life.
I think I am falling in love with her.
And how can't I,
when she is built from every admiration
I was too afraid to chase before?
—
Maybe that's why I no longer trust the phrase "I am enough."
It sounds less like self-love
and more like fear dressed up as acceptance.
Because what does "enough" actually mean?