Sometimes I wonder

if I’m just not built for it.

Not the work.

Not the mission.

Not the goals.

The weight of it.

It’s not the pressure.

It’s the inherent double standard.

Be confident, but not arrogant.

Be empathetic, but not emotional.

Be driven, but have a balanced life.

It’s all stuff I want.

It’s all perfectly reasonable,

and totally impossible.

It never feels like enough.

There’s always another hurdle

that I trip over.

I catch myself thinking:

“Maybe I’m the problem.”

Like I should’ve figured it out by now.

Like I’m missing something

everyone else just… gets.

Like I’m the only one

pretending it’s working.

Even if I can’t name it exactly,

I know the pressure is real.

I know it costs more than I admit.