Enough.

What went wrong? What did I do wrong?

I practiced smiling wide in front of the mirror,

my reflection a complete contrast to the mirror of my soul.

I practiced my laughter, the perfect mellifluous melody

that everyone wants to hear, till I ended up sobbing

until I barfed my lying guts out.

I swear, I rehearsed in perfect discipline, every single day

without break.

And I swear, I performed till I couldn't anymore,

which was when there was nobody around to witness

the cracks in my splendid play.

Now, I stand in front of the mirror yet again,

this time, my laughter is not the melody others listen to;

this time, it is the laugh of the Devil himself, bittersweet,

stomach-curdling, and damnedly wretched, as I think to myself,

"How tragic you thought that was enough."

Because I know now, that I could never be enough,

no matter how much I try to morph myself into the picture-perfect,

candid figure.

'Being enough' are the two words from the wisp of the mouth

of a drunk, self-loathing, pitiful person, much to the

merriment and entertainment of others, at their own expense.

Of course.

Enough is but a fantasy.