I know I'm a mess.

I haven’t done everything that I needed to do.

I was expected to do this. I was also expected to do that.

But I didn’t.

You yell at me. You chastise me. You tell me that I need to do better.

You think that I don’t care.

You think that I don’t worry about it every minute.

You think that I’m fine with myself.

But I am a mess.

And I know it.

So many things are expected of me.

I expect so many things of me.

But I know that I am a mess.

You think that I’m fine with myself.

You think that I’m just wasting my time.

I am. I’m sorry.

But it’s hard to stop worrying.

It’s hard to stop thinking about what a mess I am.

I get up every day knowing that I am a mess.

I do what I can every day knowing that I am a mess.

Every night I lie awake. The nights are better.

I am still a mess. But at least nothing is expected of me.

I can lie peacefully knowing that, when my head is on my pillow, I’m not failing.

I can rest easily until tomorrow, when something will be expected of me again.

When I will be a mess again.