Half of Mys3lf

It’s almost an act of som3 upsid3 down s3r3ndipity that on3 of my k3ys isn’t working whil3 I’m writing this post b3caus3 lik3 my comput3r I also f33l that I’m malfunctioning.

I f33l lik3 half of mys3lf.

I notic3d this on my most r3c3nt trip with a d3ar  fri3nd. I couldn’t l3t h3r b3 right, or shar3 h3r knowl3dg3, or 3v3n stand to h3ar h3r talk about h3r fri3nds. You know why?

It took a giant gulp of humility to admit this b3caus3 I’m 22, I should’v3 outgrown this, right?–INS3CURITY.

I am utt3rly ins3cur3, but not just about th3 classic topic of looks:

About work. Am I a good t3ach3r?
About int3llig3nc3. Am I smart 3nough?
About r3lationships. Am I a good fri3nd?
About hobbi3s. Am I still a good writ3r?
About faith. Am I b3ing a good follow3r?

All of th3s3 ins3curit3s ar3 w3ighing down on m3; it’s b33n hard to k33p my h3ad up, to sp3ak a kind word ov3r som3on3 and m3an it.

I wish I had mor3 confid3nc3 th3s3 days. Not sur3 wh3n this cam3 or how this happ3n3d, but I miss my full s3lf.

I hop3 sh3 com3s again soon.

Malfunctioning just do3sn’t f33l lik3 m3.



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