Shame sleeps through my body, coating every inch of me, like the remnants of melted ice cream in a child’s hand, sticky and relentless

Every word, every glance, every movement caught from the corner of my eye, reminds me that I am lacking; I am not enough; I am all the things I tried not to be and none of the things I thought I was, or could be or wanted to be

Someone says “you’re so good at X” and I hear “you’re no good at Y & Z” because X is simply not enough. I am never enough.

So I get out of bed and go to work, a plastered smile on my face. And no one knows.

No one knows that my brain is a black hole, twisting my soul into a tortured whirlwind, a tornado of questions tossed my way, so casually spoken and so deeply devastating, burying me in a mountain of “should haves” and “what is wrong with you”, the “why did you” or the “why didn’t you”. Never enough.

And the hole keeps growing. And growing. And growing. It’s in my lungs and my stomach; it is surrounding my heart, squeezing just enough to steal anything good there might have been but not enough to stop the beating. The steady, rhythmic boom, boom, boom of

SHAME SHAME SHAME SHAME
SHAME SHAME SHAME SHAME

SHAME SHAME SHAME SHAME SHAME SHAME

And now, I am the hole. Empty of all but the eternal nagging of shame. Unable to feel anything but pain, even in those brief moments of happiness, those glimpses of life eaten away by the shame.

I just smile. And pretend. Because really……..who wants to know?