My knees are wobbly. My breaths are coming in short and wimpy. Hold yourself straight girl, even with the buildings on your back. My performance is dwindling, tears springing. I am not good enough to make it, I can not make the cut. I have never been good enough, nor will I ever be. My thoughts terrorize me, if not successful, then a failure. If not the best, then unworthy. If I am not good, then...
no.
No, tell me I’m not
bad.
Tell me I’m not bad.
