Worthy or Best Gone

July 22, 2015

I am ridiculous. 


This is my first post in way too long, and it's not even a normal one. 


I promise that for about half of my absence, I have a semi-legit excuse as to why I disappeared from the blogging community. The other half? Blame the creators of Netflix.  



In just a few moments, you will be reading something that I consider a little more personal. I have been battling with several things since my transition into American society, and through an exercise (from my oh-so-fabulous sleep doctor) I produced something that I believe may help you just as it did for me. Know that it is meant to be a little vague and up for interpretation - I like it like this because as an introspective person, I can interpret it differently depending on my mood - so if something like this isn't for you, I'll be back again with something a little more generic. Promise. Please come back soon.


For those of you sticking around, thank you. I would also appreciate if you comment on how the piece affected you, and not on your interpretation of my mental or spiritual health. Thanks =)




Here ya' are. 


I have realized I was made to be extraordinary.

I have a skill set that doesn’t work well in classrooms or cubicles – convincing the Other Me I will never be great. I cannot take tests and memorization is my enemy. I fail at mathematics and I struggle to stay focused.

Most days, I struggle to wake up and motivation is an even greater battle.

But I was made to be extraordinary.

Rejection and judgment are my greatest fears – leaving me either hopelessly inadequate or an obsessive, compulsive nightmare.

I was made to be extraordinary.

My mind is in chaos, a frightful mess of thoughts, questions and personalities – baffling professionals with my internal complexion and my terrifying shadow complex.



I have realized that I am not enough.

I am a girl – hardly a woman – committed to a distant dream that is only awakened when my demons are sleeping. I am a part of a generation that is associating my God with dark, shoddy things – mystifying and belittling my only hope. But there is an unquestionable quake in the pit of Me, whispering greatness.

But I am not enough.

There are days when I wake up and I am wholly Me. The Other is worlds away, hardly even a memory. I am reminded of the definition of love and honesty, faith and presence, joy and magnificence. It is in these days, I can change the world.

I am not enough.

When the darkness returns, my life is torn away and replaced with a filthy impersonation. My goals, dreams and peace of mind are pushed aside while the Other slams wide open doors and loathes commitment. As I lay there, I know that I am better. Somewhere. I know that, if I only push, I can create something refined, perhaps find a better part of me. But Today, I am not allowed.

Not enough.


Living with quiet darkness is not like anything else in the world. What is loud can be addressed, but when it is Silent, it is meticulous, it is precise. Between what is real and what is imaginary, It sits and waits. By defying all that is immediate, everything grows into a grey, frightened monster, tinted with the numb emptiness inside.   


I have been this way since I was small. This is something I cannot deny.

There are days when I am convinced this is it.

This is all I will ever feel.

But these are the days when I am wrong.

I was made to be extraordinary by a God far bigger than Me.

Far bigger than the Other.

I was made to be extraordinary because my God wanted Me.

He sees beauty where I see inadequacy.

In God, I am enough.



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