The world says I can do it, I wish I could agree. On the good days, I feel like I can achieve anything, create anything, and finally become the man I want to be. Those good days are rarer and rarer as time goes on. My own worst enemy is the mirror. Looking back I see the failed boy to his parents, his teachers, friends, her, and least importantly, himself. I know the truth of how I’m not the real me yet. Of how I cannot achieve, become, or state the things I want. Those days are gone when writing my name wasn’t a lie to anyone reading it. I lost myself, I do not know when or how, but I did.
What is left after I cannot even say I’m living for myself anymore? Let alone as myself. When will the world give a new meaning? How will I interpret it and through what? A girl? A sign? What if I don’t recognize it, am I lost after that?
These questions fill my head every day, continuing the onslaught of negativity I create for myself and those who surround me and don’t deserve it. I hope this day of revelation for me comes soon because my patience is thinning. Not the patience to wait for this change, but the patience for when that day comes; I will still have a chance and enough faith to accept the change and embrace it. I feel like that day is long coming though and every day it gets harder to put on the mask for everyone around me and look through that mirror and not tear apart its endless lie that it beholds.
Maybe, just maybe, the change will be gradual, and starting today I will become who I want to be and am supposed to be. I doubt it but who knows. But this dying hope reminds me of the oil miracle that Hanukah revolves around, yet I feel like I’m on that 8th day, and my candle is about to go out.
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