Good Enough

I have never been good enough.

I try my best

But I know I am not

Not to me, my parents, my doctors, my partner.

Not to anyone.

Or at least that is how it feels...

I am endlessly sick.

Everyone always says

“I just hope they are healthy”

And I had years of that luxury

Until I didn’t.

My body gave up

I was dying

Dying.

I didn’t know it

But my body was killing itself

Tearing itself to shreds

First on the inside

Then creeping to the outside.

I was told

To hug me was like hugging a bag of bones

My mother feared I would not wake up if I fell asleep.

Until a miracle

The doctors told me what I am

A mess.

Internally a battlefield

Only needing a small solution

But a cure is a false hope.

I have heard enough false promises

That I refuse to believe

Because if I do

And they are wrong

That might destroy me.

And ever since

Food has become numbers.

I over analyze every element

Driving myself mad.

I’ve been poked and prodded

A human pin cushion.

No one notices the scars

They are but pinpricks on my fingers

And arms

And legs and stomach and back.

And my psyche

Oh how it’s been damaged

I was always anxious

But

This vicious cycle.

One affects the other

The physical and the mental

So I am wholly sick

And tired

Always.

Knowing that I can never be at peace

Inside and out.

Also

People tell me I am brave.

But am I?

Or am I just desperately clinging onto life.

All the measures I take to live

It should be a given

But of course it’s not that simple.

People tell me

I could never do that

I would die.

They would rather die than. Be. Me.

And

As I age

My body will deteriorate

I will suffer earlier than my peers

If I am not good enough.

I will die before my peers

If I am not good enough.

So

The question remains

Am I good enough?