The words came as a gust of cold wind, the kind that turns your umbrella inside out and exposes you to the icy rain. There it was, in that short, calm message. One more ending. A period sign punctuating the change of direction towards never. Calculated words of termination. I looked in the mirror and saw myself in the past, dealing with different names but the same outcome. You are so amazing. You are unique. You are so rare. What I am, is never enough. All the stories I have in me, all the lives that I’ve lived, the lessons I carry with me, my personality, my soul, my heart, the soft tips of my fingers caressing away silent tears, none of it is enough. That message carried the weight of so many feelings from the past. It embodied a self-fulfiling prophecy that haunts my head every time I fall in love. Will I be enough, this time? Will we be out of the woods soon? Be yourself, do you, be real and honest and raw and emotional and let yourself go, they tell me.
But no, not that way. Don’t be yourself like that. Be yourself like I want you to, or I’ll leave because you, well you are not enough.
I’ve always felt like I was disposable. Like all these great things they saw in me were like that scenery you admire while driving somewhere. Look, that’s beautiful! That’s grandiose! That’s rare! You stare in awe for a few moments, but you do not want to stay there. You’re on your way to somewhere else.
I am nowhere, not somewhere.