one fish, two fish, red fish, blue fish.. ♥

jenni lee brookman. ♥


Every fucking day, I have to deal with the pressure I put on myself, to outdo myself. But I can’t ask for help, I can’t admit I’m weak. I’m going back on my words, I’m going back on who I used to be. I can’t take it anymore. Every day I wage a war on myself because I’d rather die than let this win over me. I can’t let this win over me. How can I be expected to help anyone else, when I can’t even help myself? Call me a hypocrite and I’ll be the first one to agree. I am no longer the prophet I once claimed to be. I’m stuck between trying to find where I stand, and what it is I stand for. I am no one.

I’ve never told this to anyone. I’ve just tried to move past. But lately it seems that my insecurities have got the best of me. And I’m no longer in control. No one should ever have to feel like this. To feel like me. Even though the good I have outweighs the bad, the bad is what’s leaving me with sleepless nights. I spend most of my time arguing with my own reflection. For no apparent reason. And it may seem as if I have all the answers, but I’m just as lost as you. I’ve spend the past few years trying to overcome my own misery, but these sort of things take time, and I’m running out of mine. So I will pray to a God that's there, to a world that doesn’t hear, to anyone who will listen, to keep me from becoming everything I promised myself that I would never be. I do not deserve this.