The fear of never measuring up

and other fun things

Have you ever had a brilliant thought slip away when you tried to write it down? Or even thought of writing it down? This piece started with that frustration and ended up somewhere much deeper. Enjoy! 😅

Sometimes, I think of something really clever. Then, immediately, I think of writing it down and instantly forget the exact thing I thought of. I’ll ponder and wonder and think and reminisce and miss and it’ll all sound so beautifully poetic, but who will believe me if I’ve nothing to show for it?

Is that normal? Do I even care if it’s normal now that I know “normal” is meant for the commonplace, for the overrated? Normal has no place for the rare, the extraordinary, and all things not considered normal per society's standards.

Maybe that’s why when I read something that touches me or that instantly rings true as “good writing”, it puts me in a weird mood. Because here I am, in comparison, unable to write anything half as beautiful, and when I actually manage to think of something, it goes whoosh. Right into thin air.

A lot of it stems from how insecure I seem to have gotten about my English vocabulary ever since I started reading other people’s work. Weirdly, it doesn't happen when I read books. Maybe authors don’t process as “real people” in my mind given the plethora of rounds of edits and people their books have to go through before reaching the reader’s eyes.

But when I read other people’s work, “real people”’s work, I get the intense feeling of not measuring up. Of not knowing as many words as them, of not writing as beautifully or as profoundly as them, or not reaching as many people as them. The insecurities and the self-doubts are long chains that keep me bound.

I have this intense fear of never being good enough. Of never being able to achieve what I want. Ever. Even though all my wants seem so simple and so basic, it feels like I just want to “live” and live “well”, and what if I can’t manage even that?

What if all I’m good for is writing down my feelings as they come, putting them out into the world, only for no one to actually read them or connect with even 1% of them, if not in their entirety?

What if it doesn't even matter what I do or how I do it? What if anything I can possibly do just won’t change the course of things, the strings of fate? What if nothing will ever manage to braid them in my favor?

What if all I’m good for is giving people all I have? All my love, my sincerity, my genuine devotion, and consideration into every single thing I do only to get nothing at all in return? Only to never be loved the same way? What if I don’t deserve that love even after all that I am and do? What if there’s no red string of fate for me? Or if there is, there is no soulmate, no a-person-who-knows-me-so-well-and-does-everything-to-keep-me when I reach the end of that string? Nothing at all?

What if my “art”, if you can even call any of my writing “art”, never ever measures up to that one random post I read and had an entire crisis about?

Maybe I’ll never measure up to someone else on the internet. Or perhaps they’ll never measure up to me. That’s pretty much wishful thinking but still somehow a little bit confidence-inducing. Or hey, maybe we’ll all cross each other in this imaginary contest and get stuck in the loop of measuring up and not.

Maybe love will leave me standing alone in a crowd and then come knocking to sweep me off my feet again. Perhaps I’ll find someone. “The One”. They’ll know me inside out and not turn away at the slightest hint of a rift.

Or maybe I won’t. Maybe I will spend all my life yearning for love lost, constantly grieving the one person I love more than anything else and I’ll say to myself, “hey it’s fine. It’s all for the best. You’re okay. You’ll be okay.” And life will pass me by while I still stand where I was, looking for love. In all the possible places I could but never found it. Watching as love finds everyone around me but passes me by as if I’m hidden in plain sight?

I don't have answers to any of these questions and I’ve no idea what my therapist would say haha. Maybe there aren't any answers. Not right now. My therapist might say something wise/helpful about self-acceptance or growth or healing, but for now, these doubts and fears and all this love I have to give - they exist together, tangled up to form such a mess that I can’t even begin to untangle. And maybe that's its own kind of answer. Maybe it’s all meant to stay knotted and tangled so when the time comes to untangle it, I won’t feel so alone?

Leaving you with this picture I took months ago that I feel goes well with these thoughts of mine.