Hope is no Secret

I don't know how many times I've hit a wall. And then hit another, and another, and another. It's like I get off by hitting walls. I like to put myself in positions to squirm, and fret, and try to find the light and air. Always fighting to make it work when I'm the one sabotaging myself.

Sabotaging myself. But I still hope I'll get better.

I've talked about a guy. I've wanted a guy. I've crushed after him, I've lusted after him.
But I wouldn't date me either. I wouldn't date me either.
Will things be the same? Or will I make them better?

Happiness lies in my own hands, will I take me longer to understand that?

I need to learn to love myself, I need to learn to love who I am. No more fighting, no more hollow promises, only to return to the sloth and envy, the self-spoiling.

So I share a secret, I share what I feel inside, I share in hopes I'll be held accountable by myself. So let me start. Let me accomplish much as I work hard for it. Let me enjoy the things I've earned. Let me feel content that I have worked hard and I deserve happiness, and I'll let myself be happy, finally.