I am doing the best I can. When I fake a smile. When I fool you with false confidence. When I feign self-belief just to manifest it into the eventual truth — someday. I am doing the best I can. When I contradict myself. When I calculate and manipulate. When I'm cynical of every detail and every person in the name of self-preservation. I am doing the best I can. When I'm immobile, alone on the couch. When I'm impossible, absent from reality. When I'm immersed in the aching storm clouds of depressive nightmares. I am doing the best I can. When my relatable flaws are conveniently displayed in my published art. When my real failings are purposefully hidden. When my fussing is projected onto others because I fear the wagging finger that points back at me. I am doing the best I can. When I let acrimony take over my speech. When I lash out my antagonized emotional turmoil. When I land on my ass after falling off of the high and mighty pedestal of righteousness I built. I am doing the best I can. When I write down my imperfections. When I work to improve them. When I wonder who I could be if I truly believed in myself... When I wander away from an unfinished project because it will never meet my own impossible standards. When I walk back only to turn it into a polished poem that will resonate with readers. When I whimper over my dream to pay the bills by doing what I love. When I witness myself forcing a pen into my hand because it's quantity over quality. When I wish I was someone, someplace and sometime else. When I want to hide away from society. When I wallow in guilt because I live a privileged life and have so much to be grateful for. When I willingly give into toxic patterns or minimize and repress my own needs, wants, values, emotions, opinions, oppositions, conflicts, dreams, and desires despite the promises I made to myself this January — and last. When I warn the masses, but seldom heed my own advice or go with my gut or listen to my heart or trust my intuition or allow the moon to guide me down the right path. When I weep for humanity and my tears achieve nothing but flood my own bedroom. I am doing the best I can. You are doing the best you can. She is. He is. They are. Together, we are, but we feel as if we're walking alone because we are focused on our own journey so it's easy for us to scrutinize others as if we are all so different. As if some of our shortcomings are more redeeming than the reprehensible mistakes of others. We are humans. Our histories are beautiful and they are hideous. Every one of us. Still, I'd like to believe that we are all doing the best we can.
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