In one version of myself I give off the illusion of being confident, put together, professional, happy. Some days I almost believe in that version. In this world I am a good person, I love the people I surround myself with, and I can see myself letting my predetermined future absorb me into it. I take care to dress nicely, curl my hair, line my eyes so I don't look so tired. This is the girl people think they know. This is the girl my mother thinks she raised, my husband thinks he married, and I wish I could be.
Unfortunately there is this other reality. This other sick version of myself that is seeping into that other decent part of me, slowly dissolving any illusion that I can control it. This is the girl who yanks at her hair as she quietly cries into her pillow smearing mascara all over the rest of her made up face. This girl is weak and foolish. Two things I fear more than almost anything else. I toy with the idea that maybe, like my father, I have a chemical imbalance that is causing this deterioration, but I doubt it. I think I am just a fucked up.
This version of myself can see herself getting in her car and just driving, accepting that it will hurt everyone but her. I was never supposed to still be here. I was never supposed to be a crutch to my broken family. I wasn't meant to get married. I certainly was not meant to cheat on a man I loved just to make myself temporarily feel better. Over and over again.
I think that everyone struggles with conflicting ideas about themselves. What I want to know is do they ever balance out or at least does one ever just beat out the other and win?
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