not enough

One of the earliest things I remember hearing was a voice telling me I was not enough. 

It was the voice of my dad, disappointed that I was quitting band, then leadership, then rowing, saying that he would not have any reason to be proud of me anymore. As if a club at school was what defined me.

It was the voice of the girls at church and at school who refused to talk to me when I awkwardly came into the room. Deciding I was not worthy of being included in conversations. 

It was the voice of the sororities freshman year of college not calling me back. Telling me that being shy was not what people want. 

It was the voice of the boy who took my virginity, deciding I was worth that, but nothing more. 

More recently, it was your voice, you know who you are. Silently screaming at me for months that I was not worth the distance, not worth a future. 

With time, like fog creeps into the ocean, this voice has crept into my mind and become my own.