Joy

I wonder if all we are is what other people think we are. There are people that think I am selfless. Or funny. I talk too much. And there are some that think I am completely selfish and rude. Can they both be true? How do you ever really know what you are? I personally would like to know, because I am constantly trying to get better. To evolve into a benevolent being. I try so hard. Am I what God says I am, and what is that? I look in the mirror and see an aging little girl. I have no real power. I don't look very good on paper. But I see things. I see people. I understand why people do what they do and say what they say. Why they withhold love. We are all struggling for power and control. It keeps us safe. I am too quick to give my power away. I trust, and it kills me every time.

I am not selfish. The complete opposite, in fact. To a fault. It's debilitating.

Whatever ingredients were mixed together to make this Karen Thing (I wish it were a dessert), I can't change them. Evidently, I am what I am. And so are you. I can't seem to find my joy at the moment. I am searching. Desperately. It's not in any of the places I keep looking. It's probably in the couch cushions or in my purse somewhere.