I want to be quite honest.
Lately, I’ve been feeling so burdened and tired. Not in the physical kind of tired but my very being is tired. I always feel this way whenever I make a mistake because it makes me feel like a failure. I understand that having such perfect expectations over myself is unrealistic but I can’t help it. Devastation and emptiness always seeps and fills in the holes that’s been made through the wrongs. As I’m writing this post, I’ve found myself dumbfounded in what to write because I’m at a loss for words. It’s like I’m reading a music score–in the beginning there are so many notes but as the song comes to an end–the notes begin to drift off the lines and they spread apart from one another. Slowly, in between the spaces of those notes I lose myself. That is the place I’ve come to now.
I don’t know if I’m being too dramatic over mistakes that are bound to happen in life, but for me they destroy me. An imperfect being cannot achieve perfect virtues. My mind seems to understand but my heart does not. I want to become the best version of who I can be but I find myself failing at this. I feel lost. I feel broken. I don’t know what to do.