![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Have you ever looked at the moon before? Like, really looked at it? It's so beautiful, so powerful. I'm awed by it. So simple and so majestic. Silent. But always there.
There's something about Darren Hayes music. It's just... It always stirs up feelings. And this song always does me in. Good enough. It's something I deal with every second of every day. He asks if he can be good enough. I realize I'll always wonder.
Insecurities abound. My sexuality. My body. My emotions, my thoughts, my actions, my dreams and fears. I never know if I'm good enough. I want so much to be good enough for someone. I want so much to be folded up in someone's arms and told that I am loved. That I'm good enough. That living through hell for so many years has made me a better man. That I can be who I want. Lately I am reminded constantly over and over again that there are many things I will never be good enough at, people I can never be good enough for them to accept me. This shouldn't bother me, but it does. I just want to be liked. I just want to be understood. My stepfather is ashamed of me. This bothers me. My grandmother who loves me doesn't know me. This kills me. The people at work, the people at school, complete strangers. I always wonder if they see me. If they know. All of these years I've been a much better actor than anyone, myself included, have credited me for. I even have issues about having issues. We're talking about a crate packed with smaller and smaller suitcases and bags kind of baggage. An onion, if you will. I don't know, maybe I'm starting to peel.
One day I'll be completely fine. One day I'll understand, I'll know.
Despite all of this, I'm not unhappy. I'm not happy either, but I don't feel the doubts and depression anymore. I don't necessarily feel like I have to be good enough. I just want it. I have goals. And I am my own worst critic. I can't take compliments well. Never could. I have accomplished and achieved so much that I could and should feel pride for. I've survived. I'm a strong person. And I'm a genuinly caring person with a good idea of what's what. But sometimes I can't remember that. I can't remember all of the things that I've done for myself and for others. Sometimes I forget what I've had to go through to be where I am today.
I need to get back to that. I need to pick up my writing seriously again. I really think that will help me with everything. I'll feel like I'm doing something. And I'll get this stuff out. I'll get these thoughts out of my head. I'll get my dreams realized through fictional characters in made up settings.
I'll get him out. Of my head and my life. And yet I can still have him. I can know that feeling of being good enough. I just want to cuddle up to him and put his arm around me and let him let me cry. I need to so bad and I can't. I want to but I won't. These dreams turned reality are tinged with the blood of innocence lost. Nothing is what it was.
There's something about Darren Hayes music. It's just... It always stirs up feelings. And this song always does me in. Good enough. It's something I deal with every second of every day. He asks if he can be good enough. I realize I'll always wonder.
Insecurities abound. My sexuality. My body. My emotions, my thoughts, my actions, my dreams and fears. I never know if I'm good enough. I want so much to be good enough for someone. I want so much to be folded up in someone's arms and told that I am loved. That I'm good enough. That living through hell for so many years has made me a better man. That I can be who I want. Lately I am reminded constantly over and over again that there are many things I will never be good enough at, people I can never be good enough for them to accept me. This shouldn't bother me, but it does. I just want to be liked. I just want to be understood. My stepfather is ashamed of me. This bothers me. My grandmother who loves me doesn't know me. This kills me. The people at work, the people at school, complete strangers. I always wonder if they see me. If they know. All of these years I've been a much better actor than anyone, myself included, have credited me for. I even have issues about having issues. We're talking about a crate packed with smaller and smaller suitcases and bags kind of baggage. An onion, if you will. I don't know, maybe I'm starting to peel.
One day I'll be completely fine. One day I'll understand, I'll know.
Despite all of this, I'm not unhappy. I'm not happy either, but I don't feel the doubts and depression anymore. I don't necessarily feel like I have to be good enough. I just want it. I have goals. And I am my own worst critic. I can't take compliments well. Never could. I have accomplished and achieved so much that I could and should feel pride for. I've survived. I'm a strong person. And I'm a genuinly caring person with a good idea of what's what. But sometimes I can't remember that. I can't remember all of the things that I've done for myself and for others. Sometimes I forget what I've had to go through to be where I am today.
I need to get back to that. I need to pick up my writing seriously again. I really think that will help me with everything. I'll feel like I'm doing something. And I'll get this stuff out. I'll get these thoughts out of my head. I'll get my dreams realized through fictional characters in made up settings.
I'll get him out. Of my head and my life. And yet I can still have him. I can know that feeling of being good enough. I just want to cuddle up to him and put his arm around me and let him let me cry. I need to so bad and I can't. I want to but I won't. These dreams turned reality are tinged with the blood of innocence lost. Nothing is what it was.
