The heavy heart

Sometimes, I wish I didn’t have a heart. That I didn’t have emotions or feelings that ran so deeply within my veins. That I grew up with this ideology that I have to be moral and righteous all the time.
Can’t I just be a dirtbag like most people? Can’t I just be selfish once?

I mean, I suppose, in my own way I’m selfish – everyone is.

But going back to what I mean. I just sometimes wish I could stop caring what other people thought of me. I just wish I had the confidence and the strength to be something more than I think I am.

I watched a video of myself the other day. I didn’t recognize the girl until somebody yelled out her name and she responded. That girl, that happy, beautiful girl with the beaming smile was candidly me. And suddenly, as soon as her name was called I found many faults with her.

And I felt bad. I felt guilty. I suddenly realized then, and only then that because this girl emanated such disdain for herself it bled into her world. People felt that strange energy surrounding her, and it drew them back. She doesn’t like to be held, cared for, fought for, complimented.

And yet she expects somebody else to do that for her.

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