Long to Be

I stare at screens and pages telling me I’m not good enough,

that who I am isn’t who I should want to be.

They say “trust us, you aren’t okay…”

Sometimes I fall into the trap they set for me.

I see pictures of people who seem happy

and long to be them.

Will I ever feel that happy?

I see pictures of people who are filthy rich

and I long to be them.

How will I pay for next semester?

I see pictures of people who overcame some struggle

and I long to be them.

When will it be my turn?

If I listen to the messages these pictures are selling,

even just for a second,

I am…

miserable

broke, broken even,

and stuck.

When did I give everyone else permission to tell me

who I am?

I am more than their evaluation of me.

I am more than my evaluation of me on days

when I get into my own head.

I am not miserable, broken, or stuck.

There are days I feel that way

but those words don’t describe me.

I am fiercely fighting for my own happiness,

working towards a future that I can be proud of,

and experiencing things that will make me stronger.

I am the person I should long to be-

a work in progress,

perfectly imperfect,

wholly my own,

and worth a damn.

This poem is about: 
Me

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