it comes to me at night

I think I’m alright,

but my dreams whisper my inner doubts.

they show me I’m not good enough,

they tell me I’m not pretty.

 

a targeted gaze and smirk sends bullets into my heart,

a lover’s lack of eye contact freezes me into a hollow husk.

 

why does my brain create this?

why must it punish me in a way so ominous?

why can’t I simply enjoy my unconsciousness?

 

my insecurities awaken when I lose control,

hypothetical moments replay and rewind

and the worst is trapped in my head.

 

maybe I should listen and strive for perfection so I no longer feel inferior.

I’m trying but I know if I continue listening,

I will never be satisfied.

 

I’m never good enough.

I’m never pretty enough.

my dreams remind me.

 

Image credits: Danny G – https://unsplash.com/photos/l2NRQNkQ2Qk

 

 

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