Great Expectations

Like butter over too much bread

They expect me to be overstretched in life.

Each and every day I dread

The mistakes I will make, despite my endless strife.

 

There’s no room for my mistakes

And nowadays I can’t forgive myself,

Nowadays every failure makes me shake

With tears and decomposing mental health.

 

“I must be pretty and incredibly smart,

I must be influential and always upbeat,

I must show the world the size of my heart,

And I must be perfect,” they have me repeat.

 

And what if I’m not?

Then I won’t go to college, or have a good career

I won’t be happy – or so I am taught.

Now each tiny failure is painfully severe.

 

In high school people believe that someone

Is whatever others brand them to be;

To others, I am a robot who never has fun

When really I’m restrained, longing to be free.

 

All the time I try my best

To overcome this restrictive box

Of words and expectations, lest

Another’s definition makes me something I’m not.

 

There is no forgiveness, no restoration

From my world and its great expectation.

This poem is about: 
Me
My community

Comments

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741