As I turned 30 this year, I began letting go off psychic garbage to ascend to my goals. I gifted myself a poem to fill up the excess space. I wish you fill your space wisely.
KNOW ITโS NOT FOR YOU
Know itโs not for you.
People weighing like canons,
Theyโre not for you.
You feel like an alien,
An Outsider,
Always speaking out of turn,
Unwelcome,
Unheard,
Unimportant,
When you need them,
Theyโre not around for you.
And that is okay
Not everything in this world
Has to be Yours.
Not Everything is built for you.
At 30, know whatโs yours.
Know why,
Know where,
Know who.
And yet know that someday,
It may all change.
And thatโs normal.
Not everything is made for you.
Youโre not a broken vending machine.
Of happiness,
Of niceness,
Of giving approval.
To everyone willing
To kick you around.
Youโre not entitled to their crap.
Theyโre not entitled to your sanity.
Thatโs that.
Know itโs not for you.
Perfection is not for you.
The self-hate,
The guilt,
The pain,
The anxiety,
Born of otherโs opinions,
Know itโs not for you.
They donโt dictate you,
They do not prove
How worthy you are.
Youโre always worthy.
Especially
In your imperfection,
Perfection is not made for you.
Not everything is made for you.
Nor do you own everything.
What they decide for you,
Has nothing to do with you.
Youโre not social norms,
Youโre not beauty standards,
Youโre not virtual validation.
Thatโs not made for you.
Their judgement is not yours.
At 30, youโre free.
Let them be free too.
To rot in their disease.
Uncertainty,
Depression,
Angst,
Are not glamorous words,
Are not permanent guests.
Know they must leave.
Anything that poisons you
Behind sweet words,
Beyond the veil,
Behind a fat pay-check,
Is not for you.
Whatโs for you
Is already yours.
When you let go
Off all that does not belong.
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