I wake up short of breath and I haven’t even run this morning. In fact, I’m disappointed because I haven’t logged miles at all since Sunday.
I’m disappointed with a lot of things. And if people knew things about me, they’d be disappointed with me. I know they wouldn’t’ like the real me.
I think I’ve done a lot, but I haven’t. There are a lot of things I say I’ll do but I won’t. I really just want to connect with people. I don’t want to do so many things.
I want people to like me or at least like the image I put out there, but the real me just wants extra credit. I want people to say “She’s so good. She has talent.” When I don’t.
The real me is not talented. I have to work hard to do the same things other find easy. “It’s so easy,” my Dad would say. But it wasn’t, not for me.
I worked hard and I was ashamed that I had to. So, I hid the hard work. I struggled harder to hide the effort. Because I wasn’t as good.
I wasn’t as smart.
I was dumb.
I am a dumb girl.
If I were really smart, I’d be able to do it all. And “You’re smart,” he’d say, “so do everything.”