She feels about yea high today. It’s getting harder to breathe and move in a way that feels truthful and honest. She agonizes over every word. She doubts that any of it really matters. She searches for a promise that probably never really existed. She thought she knew who she was and what she believed, but lately she’s just unsure. Unsure of everything that makes her, her. Talking too much. Telling too many truths. Seeing the world through glasses that aren’t a universal truth. They are prescription strength. Unique. Rose colored and not rose colored enough. She gets into trouble. She fights. She leans hard into love and forgiveness but lately it’s hard to know if it will be enough. Enough. What’s that even mean? Is anything enough? She thinks it a lot…”That is enough”. But is it?

Who are you when you’re not sure if it’s ok to be you? Who are you when the world is beating down the door with all the reasons you should look more like everyone else. I watched a girl brush her eyelashes for 20 minutes yesterday. I’ve barely even noticed I have eyelashes. I’ve never brushed them. It feels like the life and pulse of the planet is drumming to a beat I’ve never heard and do not know. I’m torn between screaming, and wanting to see if I can maybe just snuggle into the silence and disappear. Thoughts crash over me like a rising ocean tide and everything seems worthy of being questioned. Everything. It’s getting a lot easier to make the promises to be smaller, but should I?

This is insecurity. This is what she looks like and how she manipulates. She is a bad friend, and I know her. We meet up for coffee on occasion and sometimes she sits in my car after work, waiting to make sure I understand that that, was not enough…(whatever that means). She whispers lies into my ears about people I love and gives birth to doubts that feed a beast that can’t be satisfied. She does not discrimate. She is always ready to make me question my voice.

Then I had this thought today, right at the peak of her climactic disassembling of my psyche…”What if you just called her out?Called a spade a spade. Wrote it all down and said the hardest parts of it. What if you told the truth about her?”

Like…really?

Maybe there would be something there? Maybe you could find some peace?

Maybe the questions could rest?

Maybe there would be some beauty in the breakdown?

So…yeah. Yea high.