reflections on being

I struggle to write the right thing,
always concerned with if I sound
deep enough, consumable enough
like, would I like this if I read it on instagram?

Is it relatable enough? Trendy enough?
Did I reference the right thing? Do I have the right problems?
Or is it just obvious and contrived.

Is this my inner critic?
Or a glimpse of the truth?
The black and white,
the back & forth.

The latent insecurity, lets not forget about that.
Protection of image, protection of ego.
Unnecessary tethers I can’t seem to shake.

I try to educate myself into the person I want to be,
like if I read this book or take this class,
or get that job,
I’ll be smart enough, good enough, important enough.

Why is being in itself not gratifying,
that I must constantly seek to find value.
An impending need to cement my unknown legacy.