There is a passion inside me, inside all of us. It is tightly secured by my insecurities and rationality. My rationale is easy to let go. I can rationalize my fears and be courageous. I can stop running possibilities and be spontaneous. However I am marvelled by the rigidity of my insecurities. The sheer servitude I accede to. I recognize them. The feeling of inadequacy in my abilities, my efforts, my love, and my worship; the inability to recognize my self-worth; the constant questioning of my worthiness in any room. I am not an outsider, but I don’t fit inside. And outside won’t have me either. I am always on the fence, but the fence isn’t a community. What do I have to do to be one thing?
What do I have to give to be worthy?
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