I keep inside definitions of what I should be. I should be good. Better. Stronger. More assertive. Resilient. Stubborn until I reach perfection. And above else, I should be feeling.

But that’s the problem, with the feeling. I try to pry open my heart, my mind, my body and my soul, to make room for something more. I project these aspirations onto other people, people I know how wrong are for me, and yet, I chose to think that no, maybe it’s my fault.

But in the end, it is not. I am not at fault for chosing the wrong people and failing. However, I am fault when I force myself to feel. This is beyond allowing yourself to be happy, it is forcing yourself. Some days I realize just that, but on other days it feels like I’m picking at old scabs, and I can feel the warm blood pouring out of me, and I’m stuck in the spiral of shame, guilt, frustration, stubborness, and self hate.

I’m not sure how I should manage all of this, but choosing intentionally the wrong persons, knowing that they will never, ever respond or understand you, it’s a slow death sentence of the soul. And my soul has been through enough death, thank you very much. I’d really like to see how it’s like to be alive.