by: Amanda Kay Holstien
What if I don’t know anybody?
What if they’re all dicks?
What if he falls out of love with me?
What if I never make it?
What am I working towards?
Why is she further along?
What if I compare myself,
But my comparison is actually wrong?
Evaluating my time like it’s money
And my decisions, commodities
Like buying stocks
When I’m ill informed of what tomorrow might bring.
Luck and hard work
Plus ego and delusion
Equals: why should it happen for me?
Self-doubt for 29 years is too long,
I could’ve died by now and never had the chance to change it-
I could be pregnant,
Barefoot in the kitchen with only dreams of fucking another man,
Praying my husband doesn’t think of another woman.
I feel I’m floating, like a lucky feather,
Fluttering and uncomfortable in any one place.
Please leave me alone,
So I have time to contemplate
All the ways in which I’m not good enough.
It’s sad, really,
To feel alone amongst so many friends.
Authenticity died with Sartre,
Yet hell remains the Other.
What if I perish
Without having published?
What if inspiration never comes
And my emotions are never given a proper name?
What if we think we’re so different,
When we’re really, mostly the same?
What if all the right questions
Still don’t lead to a satisfying conclusion?
What if what I believe to be true
Is actually just an illusion?