When my parents tell me

And my teachers agree and all my friends join

In their praises I can almost believe that

I've done enough.

Or better yet that I'm good enough but only

Almost.

When I proudly regurgitate the multitude

Of sports of clubs of teams of service, to my community within the allotted lines

Of uniform applications

For the acceptance of obscure admission officers,

I almost feel as though

I’ve done enough.

When the bone crushing fatigue of the never ending cycle;

Eat sleep school practice

Eat study school practice

eat sleep school practice

eat study school

Inevitably wear away the signs of my youth

At least I know that I’ve done enough,

for everyone else.

For colleges to admit me

For my parents to be proud

For my coach to spare an elusive comment of praise

And for the adoration of my peers, yet I never feel as though

I’ve done enough.

Why aren’t I enough?

When I hear the praise from my teachers and friends

In agreement,

With my parents’ firm belief that I am more than enough

Somehow I cannot share their satisfaction.

I’ve mastered the art of exceeding the expectations of others

But mine,

Mine are so elusive and impossible to attain

That my failed pursuits scream at me that

I am not enough.

In the face of such contradicting

Perceptions

I cannot definitively answer

Am I good enough yet?

Maybe

If I let my mask of composure slip just enough to

breathe,

Just enough for the hidden madness to be exposed and

for the succeeding sense

of freedom

To clear my mind enough.

Enough of the clashing perceptions

of the doubt

For me to know

If I’m good enough

Yet?