Bews world

I think about it the most when I clean the kitchen. I look at the mess, some of which isn’t mine, and I’m a bit tired from working all day, a bit fatigued for no particular reason (probably because I haven’t been eating enough lately).

For a moment I think to just clean up my mess and leave the rest, it’s not like anyone expects me to clean up after them, and it’s not like they left it for me to clean up but a voice in my head says “make yourself useful” and another says “the more you do the more bearable you’ll be”.

And so like the obedient girl I’ve always been, the autopilot is on and here I am cleaning up after myself and everyone else in hopes that if I do enough my presence will be tolerated for another day.

Better yet:

If I do more than enough I might be tolerated forever.

I have this fear that everyone is secretly trying to escape me and that behind my back they’re tracking every sign of my existence, like a tally, and one day I’ll have reached my limit and they’ll have had enough and they’ll be so relieved to finally have enough reason to leave me behind. I worry that I’m just extra baggage. The odd one out. An inconvenience.

I don’t know how long I’ve felt this way. Possibly my whole life? Maybe since adolescence?

What a shame that all the qualities people love most about me are silent attempts to keep them around.

• helpful

• considerate

• selfless

• clean

• thoughtful

I think I’m meant to be a singer but I’m having trouble writing songs.

I think I’m meant to be a mother but I don’t think I ever will.

I think I’m meant to live my life but all I want is to be still.

I think I’m meant to be lover but I push people away.

I think I’m meant to start something but I just can’t start today.