Why Am I Not Enough?

 




I'm smart. I don't know if I'm successful, but I have ambition.

Guys like that right?

Someone I know in real life told me that I only gained 9,000 Twitter followers in ten months because my followers thought I was attractive. So I don't usually post selfies. I've only posted one bathing suit photo because I was writing by the pool.

Someone else I know in real life said my strategy of tweeting openly and honestly about my life is entertaining because it's a trainwreck the internet can't seem to stop watching.

Is that who I am? I don't know anymore.
Why Am I Alone?

It's hard to write about real life because it impacts real people. And writing should impact real people because if we aren't writing about the truth, why are we writing? What's the point?

It's ironic how I burn bridges and then wonder why I'm alone. It's why I found a corner of the internet where no one knows me in real life. I needed to rebuild my life by speaking the truth as I understood it. I joke that it's almost like I moved to another side of the country where no one knows me.

I don't know if I'm too sensitive, or too serious, or too focused. Apparently, it's a bad thing. I invite friends to meet me and never hear back. They've said they don't invite me because they think I'm busy doing exciting things.

I lost the job that would have set up the rest of my career if I had wanted it.

I've always struggled with a learning disorder. As a result, I work harder, overcommunicate, and create exciting new proposals. But suddenly, I was stepping on people's toes and frustrating them.

Experience has taught me that if I don't try too hard, people think I don't care because I make too many mistakes. And people are really short with me when they have to fix my mistakes. It's why I try so hard to avoid making them.
It Hurts

And caring too much wasn't enough.

I thought my life was coming together. I had a job. I had a boyfriend who I thought loved me. But he broke up with me too.

I told my friend that I would have been drinking alone on my birthday if she hadn't reached out. Why don't I have more girlfriends I could have called? Why did I spend so long climbing a ladder that was missing footholds?

I would have called in sick more and gone to the beach with friends. Did you know that I graduated college without ever being drunk? That's how committed I was to build the life I planned for myself.

I understand why people don't love this hard or dream this big. I'm alone with the shattered pieces of what could have been. And people in real life tell me I'm being dramatic. Dreams end. Relationships end. We move on.
And then what?

But where are the hugs? The real-life hugs? Where are all the people who said they would love me regardless of what I achieved?

Did I push them away too?

Because I didn't mean to push everyone away, I thought people would love me if they didn't have to fix my mistakes. They didn't have to take care of me if I made enough money. I could buy them gifts and have the weekends off to attend their birthday parties.

Where did I go wrong? How do I make it right?

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