I’m Not Ready To Be My Best Self Because I’m Afraid It Still Won’t Be Enough

What is our greatness but our most charmed power? I pinch and pick into my skin and make myself look hideous. No one will undress me looking like this. No one new and getting to know me. I wonder if this isn’t what’s partially motivating me. Not dissimilar to my thoughtful resistance toward exercise. That maybe if I were to run or rather just be in tune with my body, I wouldn’t begin requesting more for myself. Am I keeping myself a ways away, away from something unprecedented?

We want what’s best for ourselves, supposedly, yet will so easily deter ourselves from engaging what is best.

Why? Why do we fear that which may fill us?

Why do we wait to break open, to experience the world in the ways our conscious begs? Because how we feel and who we are when we’re most alive is also our state of greatest vulnerability. It is when we have both everything and everything to lose. It is when we’re in the position of knowing that difference, the difference such loss could make on us.

I think we hold ourselves back from reaching the measures we dream for ourselves because we’re afraid our dream won’t change or complete us.

We’re afraid the ultimate attainment won’t be enough to quiet our nerves and settle us into ourselves.

Maybe I pinch and pick and scar my skin, making myself hideous, because it’s my way of buying myself time, of waiting to feel beautiful, to know how powerful that feels, to love myself and be so naturally, so entirely loved.

It could be that the positive emotions, the empowering ones, are those which are most unknown to me, the ones I am ultimately intimated by. And maybe, too, I’m just not yet responsible enough to unleash my own greatness or vulnerable enough for what the greatest love should ask of me either.