It’s to the point that it hurts to breathe. My lungs are squeezed into my ribcage and held beneath my chest. On days like today, that feels like far too much pressure. Or maybe it is the pressure caving in on me from the outside.
It hurts like broken bones to feel unwanted, unappreciated, unrewarded. I feel like a burden moping about waiting for someone to fix me. I am a chore. I am a labor. I am pathetic.
I long for someone to enlighten me as to what is lurking in my fuzzy future. Can someone promise me that it gets better than this? Does it get better than making yourself look foolish daily?
I am destined for nothingness simply because everyone demands greatness.
I am the queen on mediocrity.
I am empress of the majority.
I do not stand out.
I am not a snowflake.
And to realize this after years of everyone building me up, everyone promising me I am special, it hurts. Like broken bones. Like it’s impossible to take another breath. The pressure is just too great. And I am just too average.
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