Gaze

"I don't regret things." And then I look back, and I re-read my writing, and I realize that years ago I told myself what I was doing. And promptly buried that concern in doing all those things. I feel shame, but not regret. Because I don't regret things.

I excel at the 5 paragraph essay. Tell what you are going to say, say it, tell what you said. It's so clean. I created a version of myself that is so clean. I created a version of myself that gets up at 4am to work, that reads non-fiction, that arrives to things on time...that breaks down and falls apart because it's not me, and I feel "lost" "lonely" "confused" "_______". I CAN do it all, I tell myself. I can. "I need to be right and I will make it that way," I tell myself, my soft heart hidden below all my walls and to do lists.

"Write for yourself." Me writing for myself is self-flagellation. The voice in my head tears apart each thing I write until there is nothing there. It's a strength and a weakness, I tell myself...the stories I tell myself. I am critical and thoughtful and reflective.

You overthink, he told me. You're too deep.

How long did it take to build this wall? How long does it take to break it down?