As Thoughts Roam Free

So I look at this mirror in front of me and begin to contemplate this string of thoughts that are threaded into the being I see reflected back at me

I face the image of a girl that I’ve tried to design myself and if I look close enough I see a story that has been written over the past 19 years

With my eyes stuck on a girl staring back at me I begin to think about what it is I see

I think about the surface and how the world has caused me to define beauty

How my hair isn’t thick enough, long enough, straight enough, or tamed enough

How my jeans fit too snug and how the button doesn’t always agree with me

Every freckle and blemish on my skin reminds me of how even at the surface I am flawed and imperfect in a world where nobody strives for mediocrity

How my knees have scars from moments where I played with the boys when I’m demanded to act like a lady

The way my stretch marks show the pounds I have obtained as I overcame an eating disorder

With nails not long enough, hands not gentle enough, eyes not light enough, and cheek bones not high enough, I ponder

Am I enough, will I ever be enough?

I think about the classrooms I find myself in daily

How everyday I sit in a seat, I read a book, I write on paper information I am drinking in like a fire hose

The way I climb and I climb hoping one day I will reach the top as society tells me that success will always be uncertain

“Get an education!” they say, but have they considered minds are not often filled or affected when being spoken to by a man or a woman who may not even know their name

The way my significance in a University lies within the letters A, B, C, D, or F

How I am known by an identification number, a grade point average, and a class rank and as long as that does not meet the standards of those beside me I am discarded

How everytime I see the $30,000 expectation I must somehow meet I begin to drown in the thought of how tainted my future will then be

The way I can never have a conversation with the man or woman that decides my worth in the classroom yet they define who I am with the power they hold

I can try, oh how I can try, but coming up short is inevitable and being below another will come soon enough

Am I enough, will I ever be enough?

I think about the significance others find in me

How I listen until there is nothing left to be said, yet when I speak my words do not form sounds

How my actions and my character is often unnoticed for what he, she, or they say about me is much more impactful than I ever will be

The way I am often important at the convenience of others yet when another that is prettier, smarter, and more talented than I am comes along I become a memory

How the term “priority” and my name do not often coexist

I try, and sometimes others meet me there

I think about that, oh how I try to think about that

Yet sometimes a hundred positive statements are not as loud as the few negative ones

How all I am is human, yet somehow that just isn’t entirely enough

Am I enough, will I ever be enough?

I think, I think, and I think far more than I ever truly should

I can look into the mirror with my own reflection staring back at me and think whatever it is I please

Yet in the end, I write my story, I hold the pen

I see what has been written over the past 19 years and I can decide whether it is a story worth telling

I can decide if I will believe what my mind so desperately wants to or if I will believe that there is significance in my mere existence and my survival

So I take captive my thoughts and what I have allowed to run free and I decide

I am enough, I will always be enough


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