This is how life can be when we look or see ourselves as unworthy, or less-than.
I say this openly because I offer this as a means to expose how insecurity can destroy our ability to be happy.
Who doesn’t want to be happy?
Who doesn’t want to feel content?
Who wants the world on a string?
I do . . .
But first, let me expose a truth, or should I say my truths, which I hope to call relatable, and more, please allow me to illustrate how insecurity degrades us, and like a weed, insecurity starves the flowers of our hopes and truths.
Insecurity is a virus and, like anything viral, our insecurity can attack our surroundings, and either become contagious, or make others who love us just as sick, if not as tired (of ourselves) as we are.
I want to start here, to expose the violations of self, and hopefully, or if possible, I can offer an olive branch to me as a resurrector, or as my own hero, I want to rebuild and re-educate myself on this thing which we call truth.
I don’t want to believe in never.
I want to believe that yes,
I am the one.
I want to believe in the ability
or possibility
I want to believe in the dream
I want to believe in the ever after
as in happily
or as if reality, does, can
and will coincide
with the hopes
of our fantasy.
I don’t want to believe in never
I just want to believe in me.
It is a longstanding idea that we are who we think we are and, above all, we believe in what we see, what we think and, of course, we believe in the deception of our perception—to which, of course, perception and interpretation is neither true nor false; moreover, it is clear that our perception and our interpretation is always true to us (or at least me, in this case).
I don’t want to believe in never.
I want to believe in the dreams
and that all things are possible.
I want to believe in what “you” said to me,
that I can do anything, and yes,
I want to do everything.
I understand that certain things are impossible now, like say, the past or to recreate what took place or to relive or to redo, or to replay what happened. No, there is no way for anyone to relitigate what we hate, and change what we said.
That part is over.
I want to believe.
I want to believe in the truth of my heart.
I want to wash away the yesterday and open up, just like this entry, which is intended to open like a flower and bloom with wilted petals and all.
I want to let go of my grip on what went wrong, which does nothing but strangle the ability to move forward in a way that better serves us both.
I do not want to be, think, feel,
or live without you.
I know this.
I know that my head
takes me in crazy places.
And I know that I can go crazy
Sometimes . . .
But not all the time.
I know that I wish
I could tell you so many things,
which is why I write them down,
because one day—I want to be a writer,
or, at least, I hope to be one
(someday).
Maybe this is the better place for us, right here.
After all, this is why I’ve built this place, which I understand this is only somewhere that exists in my head—but hey, at least this place exists, even if only to me.
I want to lay this down.
I want to wipe away the irrational features of the way we think or the way we interact. I want to push a button and, if possible, I want to erase the days that we both could live without.
I remember being a kid . . .
(Just a kid.)
Unlived and mainly untested.
I remember the inaccuracies of my thinking and the ideas that I am somewhat ugly and that I am everything else, but beautiful.
I remember believing in the predictions that pushed me under or made me drown in the insults of others.
I remember the ideas that I am, or was, or would always be defective or somewhat unsound or unsteady and certainly, I believed that I was more flawed than fortunate.
This is what insecurity does.
This is part of the problems that people share because, in all fairness, we believe in the lies of what we see when looking at our inaccurate reflection, which is neither true nor false, but instead; this is an otherwise inaccuracy, or again, this is a combination of trained assumptions and biased beliefs which are brought on by the errors of our thinking.
This is born from the unwanted seed of poor interpretation and hence, we fall to our beliefs. We give in to the deception of our perception.
But worse, we waste the world around us because, above all, if I don’t believe in me, then I will assume that no one else will believe in me. Then, if no one believes in me, especially you, my question becomes “then why would I believe in anything?”
And I wouldn’t believe in anything.
Would I?
It is hard when the mind spirals out of control. It is worse when our thinking gives in to the mass hysteria of insecure ideas and resentments, or worse, we put ourselves in the peril of emotional danger when we play those moves out in our head.
I have to tell you . . .
It is hard to live with a jealous mindset because then the assumption is everyone is better, and so, I would never be “enough.” In the end, I always assume that I will lose everything because inevitably, “you” would see the truth about me, that I am defective or undesirable. The worst part about this is the two people who I am supposed to love most (which is us) will both be disappointed with what we see.
I don’t ever want this.
But here’s a question:
Ever rehearse what you are “going” to say in the mirror?
Ever say something out of insecurity, and immediately realize that this was a pre-emptive move or response or an eruptive strike, like a fist through a sheetrock wall, and this was all due to a thought, or a feeling, or an emotion, which is painful enough in our imagination, let alone, if our assumptions were to become real.
I don’t want to believe in never, as in we will “never” be happy
(or be together).
I want to believe in me.
I want to believe in the ability of love, wholesome and true, and bigger than life itself, and bigger than the moon, brighter than the sun, and vaster than the universe.
I know this is out there
and I know this is possible.
I don’t want to believe that the mistakes from my past will never allow me to move ahead.
(Or us, for that matter)
I want to believe in dreams.
I want to walk slowly down an untraveled street and look around and hold hands and more than anything, I want to see the world without fear, or without worry, and more than anything else, I want to understand life at a level where insecurity has no ruling.
I want it all.
Yes.
And maybe I want too much, and maybe never is a real thing.
But I don’t want to believe in never.
I want to believe that I am the one.
I want to believe that I can overcome anything.
And yes, like you told me, I can do anything.
Good . . .
Because if I can do anything
and if what you say is true,
then I can pull off my trick
and make this happen
make it stick,
and one day, whether near or far
I don’t want to believe in the alternative;
I want to believe in the way,
the path, the hope and the truth,
which is
although times come
and life can be hard
the world is truly a beautiful
place.
Life is good
and getting better.
And me?
You?
We are where we are supposed to be
holding steady,
in route
because trust me
one day
we are bound to make this happen.
In this life
or the next,
I won’t believe in never
I’ll only believe in me.
Or should I say . . .
us?
The Written Addiction 