It is easier to believe
you’re not worthy of being defended
than to believe you were worthy
but no one did.
The rage would be uncontrollable.
It is easier to believe
you’re not deserving of love
than to believe you were lovable
but no one could.
The grief would be unbearable.
It is easier to believe
you’re crazy
than to believe you’re one of the few sane
but no one realizes.
The horror would be unthinkable.
It is easier to believe
you’re wrong, a misfit
than to believe the world is wrong
but no one notices.
The fear would be insufferable.
It is easier to believe
you’re too flawed to belong
than to believe you’re valuable when included
but no one remembers to.
The loneliness would be intolerable.
It is easier to believe
you’re too difficult
than to believe you’re easy to understand
but no one is willing to.
The alienation would be unendurable.
Today I prefer to believe
it’s not them
it’s me
Today I prefer to believe
what’s easier
Otherwise how else
could I possibly
endure?
© S. Rinderle, March 2020
Purple Lyrics 
Wow, Sooz. The brutal simplicity here goes straight to the core. It’s funny, right at the end when it says, “today, I prefer to believe it’s not them, it’s me” where I thought it was going was “it’s not them who need to believe I’m all these things, but me.” Like a Byron Katie turnaround. But I also totally get that even when we know we are lovable, valuable, easy to understand, self-acceptance can take us a long way, but in the end our mammal skins still longs for human hands and hearts. ❤
Ha! Yes, this poem was a bit clever, wasn’t she?! And yes to all you say. This piece reminds me how fucking exhausting — and impossible — it is to constantly mentally prop oneself up in a community/workplace/family/world that doesn’t understand or respect you. When we’re a minority, an alien, or in a place that’s a bad fit for us, it’s easier to believe there’s something wrong with *us* than to do that constant mental and emotional labor. I know so many who do, to be able to cope and just function — including me.
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