Good Enough

I am good enough.

I keep telling myself this. I am good enough. Sometimes it works and it makes me smile. Sometimes the vicious voices win, and it all sounds fake. 

But I am good enough.

Just me, alive, is good enough. Me, being friendly. Me, being nice. Me, doing my best to make this world a better place.

Just me, like this, is good enough. Me, with my breakdowns. Me, a little overweight. Me, with my weird accent and confusing train of thoughts.

There are so many good things about me. There are so many bad things as well. But I am good enough. I can't always be the good guy, and that's ok. I am the villain in someone else's story, and that's ok. I can't change how people think about me, good or bad or so so, and that's ok.

Yet even with all that, even if I am the most meh person ever lived, I am still good enough. We are born with a purpose. We are given the opportunity to change the world, to help others. But even if, even if we failed that purpose, the fact that we are a bunch of cells and electricity being put together and working out just fine is already good enough.

Us living, breathing is good enough. The countless neuron synapses worked together, the beating heart and the ever-diligent blood cells, the brain and eyes and other senses working overdrive to keep us alive while processing the wonders of the world. This is good enough. 

I want to keep writing about why I am good enough, but that's the point. I shouldn't. I shouldn't need to justify why I am good enough. I am here, alive. I am here, doing my best. 

There was never a time for me to beg, plead, or implore that I am good enough because I shouldn't ever have to. Because those whom I need to convince have already decided their mind. Because the only input that matters is from myself. And I will say this: I am good enough.

I am good enough. Even when my trauma told me no. Even when others told me no. I can't please everyone and that's ok. I am good enough.