I’ve always underestimated my abilities. Maybe it’s because I never thought I was good enough. I never thought I was smart or attractive, I wasn’t cool or nerdy, I wasn’t wealthy, I didn’t have a dad–I was an outcast. Even within my family I felt like I was out of place; my mom and sister have always been very supportive and loving, but something is still missing–something so integral to solving the mystery of who I am and what I’m meant to do for the world. I didn’t feel like I was ever truly accepted for the entirety of my being, because I hardly reveal it anymore–suppressed like my feelings and thoughts. I’m fearful that once people know how weird I really am, they won’t like me, or they’ll make fun of me. At what cost am I paying for people’s acceptance; is it really worth it?
I could never understand the reason why people like me; I mean, I don’t even like myself, so why do other people? What do they see in me? Do they like the aspects of myself that I hate, or is it something else, and what is that something else? I connect with people and I get along with them; I’m actually at my best when I’m around other people. I like to think that if I had the answer to these questions–understanding the “why”–that I would be at peace. Still, I can’t help but feel that I’m hopeless and alone.
I feel empty. Where are my so called friends when I need them most? Do they even care about me anymore? I haven’t given them much of a reason to, nevertheless, it would be nice to hear from them and let me know they are thinking of me.
Tragically, I set high expectations of myself because I know what I’m capable of, but I think of myself as such a failure, that my capabilities, expectations and dreams always fall short from reality as a result of my own underestimations of myself.