For so long, I lived for the approval of others.
So long, my sparks dimmed from disuse.
I subtly ask, what would you like me be?
My aunt, she makes cookies, scrubs and cleans, even at sixty.
So when I visit her house, I do just that.
It is proper manners, after all.
Except that I am a hypocrite –
the kind who craves approval.
So I scrub till my muscles give way, yet I finish late.
And when she says thank you, it never comes with a smile.
Another time, I bore myself with work, but finish too early.
Then a next time, she smiles-
but my bones beg for a break.
The journey is never-ending.
I never satisfy her.
Truth is I never satisfy anyone.
Not those I labour for,
not me the labourer.
I am thirty now,
yet the struggle with people-pleasing deepens.
I want to find myself –
but it is like damming the ocean
I have spent so long living through others’ eyes.
So long,
I can no longer see myself.
Each morning,
I ask the mirror image,
“you are who?”
I’d probably spend the next decade this way –
Or I could choose differently.
Pick myself up,and live.
My skin fits best only on me,
and theirs on them.
Alas,
It’s time to stop the endless search for acceptance.
It’s time to become my best self –
not a version of another’s person.
It’s time to make changes because I become a better person.
And not just because they make me likable.
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