Never enough

It’s never enough…

I’ll never be loved enough: I’m always fucking myself in the head with stupid men, if I can quote Amy Winehouse. Promises and words but never follow through. It’s always a pissing contest with them. They catch wind of how big of a jackass the last one was so they make grandiose promises to never act like that when in fact, they become even larger than the last.

I’ll never be thin or pretty enough: First it was 120, then 118, then 115, then I thought 110 sounded but perfect…but now…now I realize that’s not even thin enough. In my head, it all boils down to being pretty enough, thin enough and I always compare myself to the competition. I’ll end up starving myself into nothing and it won’t be enough.

I’ll never be sophisticated enough: I will never escape this Appalachian white trash past that continuously nips at my heels. I can read every book by Tolstoy, stare at every masterpiece in the Louvre, marvel at every ancient wonder I could find in Europe, learn other languages, study history of wars that are now just stories instead of memories, spend tens of thousands of dollars on an education….and I’ll still just be a simple girl from Roanoke (that backwoods railroad town down in SW VA). I feel like to everyone who had a middle class upbringing, I’ll never be enough. To everyone who had carpet, air condition, a garage, a dad who didn’t come home covered in welding burns…I’ll never measure up.

I’ll never be happy enough: How can you ever feel good, safe, or even confident when the one person who grew you…who carried you, who fed you from their body ultimately tried to destroy you? Sure, I wasn’t aborted in utero but every day after that Thursday in March 1975, it felt like she took a stab at it. How do you ever feel good about yourself when you know the person who gave you life resented you for it? How can any relationship ever be good after that? How do you trust anyone after you spent the first half of your life fighting for survival? The worst part is that half of all that I am is the thing that tried to destroy me.

I’m a fucked up mess. At least I know it.

 

Advertisements

~ by rhondarhondarhonda on December 4, 2011.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

 
%d bloggers like this: