There is a fictional version of myself in my head that is tethered to the memories of what I believe many others want me to be. She has been a thorn in the base of my neck for as long as I can remember, and I could not, no matter how hard or long I have tried, could not even touch the hem of her potential.
And, for that, I have decided to put the idea if her to rest. For a lot of reasons, but the main one was that I was trying to be everything to everyone around me and I expected everyone to do the same.
And they did. And I got bitter.
But the truth was *I* was the one who decided to offer myself on a platter to be picked at. I made my personality as the most personable person to ever people, no one did that for me but me. I decided to stretch myself so thin that I was mostly cracks. I ran the battery out on this body. I held on to relations long after they expired, I was the one who could not move on with their life, I am the one collecting failures hoping, praying, one day, someone hears the screams.
But no one is responsible for that but me.
I put all these holes in the landscape to make flowerpots and now, I have to fill them up again. I have to turn the supposed kindness that I have shown to others inwards. I have to make a garden out of empty holes which, yes, will be difficult, but it will be for me. For once. But it also means that I will have to start letting go.
And THAT, is the battle.
O.K. ONO 