I keep doing it. Over and over again.
And for the love of God, I don’t even know why.

I push myself to the edge — trying to please people who mean (literally and figuratively) nothing to me.
Or, to put it more gently: people whose validation and attention I shouldn’t even be seeking.
I push myself — physically, mentally — to prove that I’m strong. Worthy. Independent. Grown-up, I guess.

Until I can’t anymore.
Until my body — physically and mentally — breaks down.
Until I’m once again reminded that I should focus my time and energy on things that really matter.

But who am I still trying to impress?
Whose approval am I still chasing?
I thought I’d freed myself from other people’s opinions.
So where in this mess did I take the wrong turn?

Am I slipping back into old habits — the ones I worked so hard to break?
Or am I just bored now, trying to impress myself?
Even though I know I don’t have to prove anything to anyone. Not even to myself.
Take me as I am — or don’t take me at all.
I know I’m worthy of everything this world has to offer without being more than I am.
And yet… I still find myself trying to.

But maybe it’s not even about them anymore.
Maybe it’s still about her.
About me.

I grew up as the youngest child — and the only girl — in my family.
And at times, it felt like nothing I did was special, because my brothers had already done it all before me.
So I became “little miss goody two-shoes.”
I tried to be perfect — no, exceptional — in everything I did.
Nobody ever worried about me, because I could handle everything myself.
I was treated like an adult from the age of ten.
And yet, what I craved most was simple.
Love.
Attention.
A sense that I mattered just as much as everyone else.

I will figure this out.
We will figure this out.
I will take the little girl inside my heart by the hand.
And we’ll figure it out — together.

So long, keep growing. Until we meet again.