Being Me

Tired.

And disappointed.

That who I am is never good enough —
That being me does nothing to measure up.
Our definitions skewed, reality obscured,
Success turned on its head.

That caring doesn’t count for much;
Money does the talking.
One fills my belly, the other my soul —
The echoing refrain.

That, though all lives are equal, some lives matter less.
That preachers preach instead of practice
And talk is cheap.

We miss the value among the noise,
Buried in a cacophony of copies,
Tempted with our eyes and blinded by our tongues.

I want to be
And have that be enough.
But no,
At least that’s what I’m told.

How so
When what I know is different,
What I know is real.

That beauty comes from caring,
Value from fraternity —
Toil illuminating truth.

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4 Comments

  1. Interesting. I think it ends strong. The line about “I want to be and have that be enough” is excellent. I think the beginning is too abstract. If you’re frustrated specifically by inadequate income and what that means psychically it could be interesting to explore. Does it make the author feel shamed? Who is doing the shaming? Feel inadequate? Etc. I want a deeper and more specific dive in the beginning and that paves the way for a really nice redemptive and strong ending

    1. I’m no art critic but I can literally feel the weight you speak of. The pull and the loneliness. It’s so hard to trust/remember that money is not the mark of our worth when it’s so frequently used as a measure of value and means of access. I don’t know if you’ve experienced the same but, it seems as our time becomes more constrained, we search for quality and thus our tribes become…smaller.

      1. I know what you mean! That’s why I’m trying to be intentional about connecting with people, doing what I enjoy and MAKING time for the thing that are important. It’s a process, and I’ve found that all I can do is be present.

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