Write hard and clear about what hurts. – Ernest Hemingway.
It hurts to be alone. It hurts to be rejected. It hurts to be told just how great you are, how brilliant you are, how pretty you are, and to go home alone. It hurts to be here, in this place, alone.
It hurts to be told you’re not good enough, you’re not going to make it, you’re not good enough to introduce to other people, to tell other people about, to ask to stand next to in the hard times the fun times the whatever times.
It hurts to not be enough.
It hurts to try and try and try and be and be and be myself and what others’ want and what my family wants and what my bosses want and what the world wants. It hurts to try that hard.
It hurts to try and be what I want to be. It hurts to fulfill the expectation of who I want to be. It hurts to wake up every. god. damn. day. and not be who and where and what I want to be. It hurts to be so fucking disappointing.
It hurts to try so hard. It hurts to succeed and it hurts when no one is there to see it. It hurts to do what I had to learn to do by myself. It hurts to not get any credit for it. It hurts to try and tell strangers who don’t care what you just did. It hurts to tell people sitting at my bar just how proud I was that I worked out that hard or that I started a new project or I got promoted but shhh don’t tell anyone yet because it isn’t happening yet and it isn’t that big of a deal anyway that you probably shouldn’t brag about it.
It hurts to not get what I want who I want when I want it. I want it all. I want this life. I want what it has to offer. I want to take advantage. I want to consider myself brave. I want to risk it all. I want to be hurt and not always the one that is hurting. I want to be broken. I want to be fragile. It hurts to be so strong and separate. It hurts to feel so much without anyone else around. It hurts that I feel so alone. It hurts to be in this place.