There are days when the words won’t come no matter how much I try to summon them, so that I could be able to put them into paper. There are also days when the words just overflow within me, and I can’t stop writing them. These days are good days, because when I want to write, I can write. Bad days are when I want to write, but I cannot. Bad days are also those days when I feel like I am not enough, and I question my worth. I question my purpose in this life. I ask myself whether instead of becoming a better version of myself, why am I becoming the worse version of myself?

I no longer think of such questions deeply because I don’t want to hurt anymore. I don’t want to mull those things over and over inside my head and feel insecure about everything in the end. I don’t want to feel not enough. I don’t want to feel jealous. But I can’t help comparing myself with others sometimes.

I’ve said a lot of times that I can be what I want to be; that if I put my mind to it, I can do anything. But I don’t know. Maybe there are just things that no matter how much you wish for it, you can never reach it; that no matter how much you hurt, your efforts are just.. really not enough, and you are just left with that burning feeling in your chest and your own voice saying, “will I ever be enough?”