self-scrutiny
(a love story)
It’s like my brain is dating me - but it’s complicated.
I was talking to my favorite person the other day.
You might call it an internal monologue.
I really like me,
but I keep me under self-surveillance.
I know me well - we've been intimate.
I rely on myself a lot.
Sure, I've let me down
but I feel me trying.
I feel my pain.
That's metaphorical pain,
I'm in no physical, or existential pain,
my dramas are interior, but the stakes are real.
I carry contradictions,
I’m constantly auditioning for my own approval.
I like my opinions, I understand them.
I'm not a fan of the pug nose, but no ones perfect
- except maybe Ansel Elgort (that man can get it).
My mission, over the next few years,
is to build a usable self
from emotional nonfiction,
a stable self-love,
and my mix of inherited qualities.
.
.
A song for this:
Cameo Lover by Kimbra
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