There is not just one Me.
There’s the one in my head.
The one I wish I were.
The one I am at home.
The one I am with my family.
The one I am when meeting new people.
The one I am with my friends.
The one I am with my dog.
The one I am at work.
The one I am in public.
All of them are similar but they are not the same. Sometimes it’s exhausting. I wish I could figure out the balance because I feel like I’m being pulled in a million directions. A person can only be pulled so far before they break. It’s just science.
It’s mostly the pressure I put on myself that makes me feel this way. I must be confident. I must feel beautiful. I must be happy and smiley. I must be positive. I must. I must.
Every once in awhile I’m tempted to withdraw. I consider myself a people person but sometimes I have an incredible urge to run away and hide from humanity forever. Or to start over somewhere that nobody knows me. I want to take everything I’ve learned and become this super human I envision.
The problem is that Me always follows. Every stupid version.
Some versions are better than others. Every version has flaws.
Except that one I wish I were. She’s perfect.
I’m not her.