It is the tightness in your chest,

the imprisonment in your own body,

your feet are planted to the ground,

but you feel like you’re walking on a tightrope,

a wrong step and you fall

but you are falling already, the weightlessness

the racing heart,

Sanity unraveling, pieces breaking apart.

You are the pieces,

trying to puzzle together

the wholeness that once was

 

They say ambition is

your strength.

But sometimes, it seems

to make you weaker.

 

These days, it is

your greatest enemy,

the devil that whispers,

you are still not enough.

 

Better is a relative term,

Best is temporal

Neither defines you.

You are more than better, best,

success, perfection

excellence

 

You are still that girl

who needs to cry once in a while,

soft-hearted at times,

who feels alone

in a crowd of people,

You are still that girl

who smiles

even when her heart is breaking,

who runs eight miles

to feel free again

 

You are still that girl

who can never balance

on a freaking tightrope,

but will try, and try,

standing up from the

falls,

embracing the bruises and

scars,

ready to

take flight.