Delete

I keep deleting the messages I write.

The words don’t feel like they belong.

She tells me that it’s ok.

Reminds me constantly that it’s not a problem.

Her words that are meant to calm, meant to help, remind me of how hopeless I am.

Don’t compare yourself to others she says.

But I’m only comparing to her.

Impossible standards, nothing but imperfections.

I keep deleting the words.

I reply.

I delete.

Insecurity rules my every action and my thoughts can’t be trusted.

I keep deleting the words I write to you.

I keep deleting the words.

I want to press send.

I don’t.

Delete.

 

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