The struggle was in my head all this time. It was a feeling of inadequacy, of insecurity, of self-doubt. It was the thought that I should be someone else entirely different from who I am now. It was the anxiety to become that idealized person without the desire to actually work to become that person. It was the feeling of lost, of not knowing where the motivation, the fire, the passion had gone. It was the fear that it might never return. It was the fatigue of all these over thinking. It was the dread of having to face the day with all these in my mind. It was the determination to keep putting up a happy face, even when I was miserable inside. It was the desperate attempts to pull myself up even as I pushed myself down. It was the seemingly endless fight between what is and what isn’t, of what I want it to be and what it actually is, of what was possible and impossible FOR RIGHT NOW. It was the optimism versus the pessimism, the idealist against the realist, the doer versus the dreamer. It was me against Me.

And it was all in my head.

I don’t want to presume that the struggle is over. I don’t think it’ll ever be, not while I am alive anyway. Perhaps not even then. We all face it, every day. The only difference is that we face it in different ways, with different approaches. I had allowed myself to wallow in the struggle, forcing myself to fight through it when I really should just learn to live with it, and allow it to help me be a better person.

Because when I did, even when it was very difficult, after it was done — because everything that begins must end, thank goodness — it all became… easier somehow. Better in a lot of ways.

Right now, in this moment, I am just living with the struggle, and I am perfect.


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