Not good enough

There are some times in life when you feel hopelessly inadequate. What makes it worse is that it appears to others like you are fishing for compliments, seeking attention. Maybe you are. But it really sucks when you aren't.

When you wear your heart on your sleeve and have it ripped out repeatedly, it takes balls to put yourself out there again. That should be a victory in itself, shouldn't it? For a brief moment, it makes you feel powerful, lets you live in the illusion that you have overcome your insecurity, and are ready for what you thought you weren't. You feel like you deserve a win, just for indulging what little confidence you have reserved for a rare occasion. Yet it disappoints you, because life doesn't work that way. Reality is a bitch that spares no effort to remind you that no matter what you do, you aren't good enough. It laughs at your poor attempts to push your way in, your paltry dreams of hoping to belong.

What are you going to do then? Crawl back into your hole and vow to never bare your soul like that again? Go back to being a recluse thus setting into motion the tiresome circle that makes you feel small yet again? Or do you keep going? I have honestly chosen the former alternative on multiple junctures, even though good sense screams otherwise. After all, why should I subject myself to that kind of humiliation again?

But then I ask myself - humiliated by whom? Disgraced by what greater power out there, but myself? Who decides I'm too small to be celebrated, but me? Which voice dares call me unaccomplished, but mine? In these childishly heroic moments, I feel big enough to pick myself up, strip, and let the world see. I have nothing to be ashamed of. If I'm feeling particularly brave, I might even look them in the eye and smirk as they mock me.