The anguish of six mere seconds

A walk reflects much about a person.

So I try to walk justified. I try to allow myself confidence in my step, justify to myself reason in my swagger, and try to give myself conviction in my strut.

I try to give myself as much as I can, for many times I feel unworthy of favours even from myself. I try to look into the mirror and accept myself for how I am, never to the point of self-affirmation as I am unable to give myself that much. I do this to protect myself as much as I can with forbearance that the consequences would be tragic; being dragged into the sinkhole of self-doubt. I try my hardest to keep my head up when I walk, to keep my knees from shaking when I talk and to stop myself from telling myself that I cannot.

Not that I can, I find it extremely difficult to give myself that.

I try to give myself as much as I need, as much as I can justify and as much as I can accept, but that much is always too little. I try to give myself a reason to relish in socializing without conjuring up the rejection of a favor that I ask of myself, to give myself a reason to believe I belong; welcome.

I try to choose myself when I can, but it is hard, as I am inferior. I try to know myself despite the gaping schism between myself and I.

I try to give myself. I really do.

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