wrong me.

“I’m trying to find my peace. I was made to believe there’s something wrong with me.”

I thought something was wrong with me.

I thought my composition occurred on a night that my Creator had too much to drink and started to get sloppy. My quirkiness reduced to mere happenstance; I was convinced that no one could have set out to accomplish this as a final result.

I had this reinforced when an entire half of me decided that I was too much. I think the kids call these daddy issues but for me they simply affirmed what I had always known. There was something. There had to be. There was something wrong and the logical answer was me.

There was something wrong with me.

Something wrong.

Something me.

He reminded me of this when the love I was so afraid to share proved to not be enough. I walked in fear my entire life, only to have said fear actualized. I ruined the better parts of myself in search of the source. I mourned our beloved fallacy like a loved one gone too soon.

Again, it is me.

I reminded myself when I nearly lost her and had no one to point a finger at.

This time something was actually wrong and it was actually me. I lost it, me, her, and everything in between.

I was right this entire time and I knew it. It is me.

It happened again.

The words just stopped and for an unspecified amount of time there was nothing. No thoughts. No flowery language to to detail common events. No sudden bursts of words; Absolutely nothing.

I chastised myself for buying the dream sold and replaced my enthusiasm with cynicism and fear because I truly believed that I couldn’t write anymore.

& for an additional unspecified amount of time I tried.

Revisited places unnecessarily in hopes that memory would invoke some stream of thoughts,  I stunted the healing time of old wounds in search of something that would probably never belong to me again.

I frantically consulted with former versions of myself and still…there was nothing.

I always missed the message.

The message of strength in spite of. Of resilience. Of leaning not on thine own understanding because thy don’t know shit. Of trusting even in times of confusion because that is truly when you need it most. Of living because you were not supposed to be afforded more time so your existence is proof of both love and God. Of being free. Of being right.




  1. The first 2/3 were pretty dark but I got the hint and the title tied in when you started consulting former versions of yourself.

    Wrong me = wrong version of you
    Wrong me = foreign wrongdoing of you
    Wrong, me = You missed the message

    Or at least that’s what I got .

Leave a Comment

Your email address will not be published.