Why can’t you understand?
I want to help, to be a saint, to be kind, selfless, free in giving everything I am to others. I want to be generous, to do anything and everything I can for the world. But the very notion of wanting to give all I have and all I am, means that I want to be known for it. I want to be kind, but I want others to see my kindness. My ache for their acknowledgement negates any kindness I could possibly show. I want to balance the world’s resources, to be sure that everyone has enough to feel happiness. Even as I strive to make things fair, I want admiration for my courage, my ability.
If I were to lend my aid, I would not be the one standing in the spotlight.
I can’t help someone else if there is a possibility that they will surpass me. Perhaps this belief is less greed, less cunning, but instead pure desperation. I can’t stand being left behind since I wasn’t given the same help I am expected to offer now. But they can’t see, won’t understand. I can’t help but desire attention, even when I know I won’t ever be able to do enough to justify my need for that attention.
Some can simply be themselves and be loved for it.
They can expect nothing and do as they can, but receive something they never knew they wanted until they are holding it in their hands. I am not one of those. I have to change, to adapt, to alter my own reality. I cannot become someone who will be loved by so many, not as I am. I will not be one of the ones, because I want it and know it. They have true kindness, a generosity that exists solely for the ones who might pass them, a dedication to be the best they can be, and people love them for their integrity and true desire. Even though I know that I would do everything in my power, I know that my all would not be enough if I were to give to the competition.
But I am selfish, I embody greed. I am desperate, and I understand that about myself.
They are not like me. They can achieve my goals because they believe and expect, and they receive. I do not believe in myself. I do not expect that I can be the best. I do not receive. But I can work just as hard, do just as much, but it would not be enough, because despite all my desires, it is my desperation that rules all, that would ensure I fail. But I would give everything. I would not yield. As long as I live, for as long as I breathe, for the duration of my existence, I would try. Though I may lose all, I would give all. I know that I would do anything.
But I’m scared.