Y.O.L.O.

How many times must I start over,
Until I get it right?

I see now it was never about being good enough.
It was never about reaching an unreachable goal.
It was always about letting myself get sabotaged
about letting fear rule my every move.

I came to you bruised and hurting
Tired and defeated
And I left you the same.
There was help to be had,
the tools I acquired 'neath your tutelage still find their uses,
But I asked the wrong questions.

Six months, six weeks or six years ago, I might've beat myself up for that.
Maybe physically.
God DAMN.   I got it WRONG.
AGAIN.
Y'know?
This time, it doesn't bother me.
Letting that bother me was the problem.
The snake eating its tail.
I've never been good enough for me because I've always let fear rule my every
       moment.
Fear of failure.
Fear of derision.
The ever-dreaded fear of reprimand.
Of reprisal.
Fear of being myself.

Even when I though I was myself,
That still wasn't good enough.
Because the fear was me.

I bought into the "fact" of my worthlessness.
I accepted the lie that I'd never be worthy.
I bowed to my most hated master.
Fear.
The thing that gripped me so, that I would never leave my room unless
       necessary because it might destroy the status quo.
A status quo that has always been unsustainable and deathly boring.
I AM WORTH MORE THAN THIS.
This I have shouted countless fucking times.
To the thin air
For fear of being seen.
For being ridiculed as being a madman.
What insanity is greater than this?
Fighting with every breath in my body to stay ordinary when I long more than
       anything to become extraordinary?
This is why I pushed the world away.
This is why I hit 281 pounds.
I act like I don't care because I care so much it burns.
It scars me like the lines down the skin of my stomach.

I never wanted anyone to see the liar I was.
The fraud.
I could never live up to the standards I'd set in my own head.
But as it turns out,
It was never about that.
It was never trying to live up to or gain the approval of the headmaster I'd
       imagined.
The goals were never real.
NOTHING would gain his approval.
I kept trying to placate him.
To play his game.
To what end?
Mine.
That was the only thing this driving force
This anger I'd embraced as myself
This fucking asshole that ran my every moment really and truly wanted.
My demise.
The only way to be free of me.
Because I hate me.
Hated me.
Really, I just hated that asshole for making me feel weak.
For making us both be weak.

I still breathe.
So it's not too late to choose.
Choose to live.
[I win, fucker.]