I want to believe that I'm enough, but I don't feel enough.

People reading this article that know me personally may think, Is she crazy? She has everything going for her. Yes, I am crazy. In fact, I am mad as a hatter. To me, I don't see my accomplishments - I only see my failures. It's because of this old, but not-so-dear friend named Anxiety.

Anxiety is the puppeteer, and I'm the puppet.

What you see is a mask molded into a smile. When I'm around others, I'm kind. My social media is a highlight reel that's movie-worthy. I keep conversations on the positive end - if I'm asked how I am I always reply, "I'm good" or "I'm fine." I'm a world-class act for hiding my problems. The pain is still there, and is an itch I can't scratch until I'm alone. When I'm alone, the mask comes off. I try to escape the darkness, but it sucks me in again like a black hole.

Lately, I've been living a life to make others happy. I'm a people-pleaser. It's a knack of mine.

I follow the rules and am a goodie-two-shoes because it feels safe. I try not to care about what others think of me, but I crave their approval because I need it to survive. I feel that I will never be good enough for other people, especially myself, so I strive towards perfection. I know too well that perfection is unattainable, but I break my back reaching for it.

I second guess everything I do, not because I'm cautious, but because I have a fear of failure. I'm detail-oriented because I need to know the answer to everything due to a paranoia of uncertainty. In public, it's become a forte to blend in because I want to avoid rejection at all costs.

I think to myself before I walk out the door, Just put earbuds in, blast music, and keep walking. In class, I'm silent around strangers because I'm afraid of what will come out of my mouth: too little or too much. I'm indecisive because I overthink everything, and I have to sleep on things. Or, in fact, lose sleep over things.

Nobody that I know would know this side of me unless I told them. It's easy to put on a show and pretend I have control over my life. I act like I don't care, but I care too much. I act like I'm sure of everything, but I'm totally unsure. I act like I believe in myself, but I'm the one who belittles me the most. It's mind-boggling that I have these two sides to myself. One is the angel on the right shoulder, and the other is the devil on the left.

I'm afraid to love someone else because I'm afraid that he won't stay when the mask comes off.

When it does, it's disastrous and messy. It can be compared to someone breaking a mirror, making shards of glass fly in all directions. I want to keep "him," whoever he is, from stepping on the shards that can cut deep. Nobody wants to be in love with a Debby-Downer.

Nobody wants to give their time to someone who doesn't have self-confidence. Nobody wants to see someone not love themselves. Sometimes, I believe it's better off to be alone than to be anguished in the pursuit of love. The skeletons are kept in the closet, and there's nobody there to try to recover them when you're alone.

When guys try to pursue me, I say I have a boyfriend, when in reality, I’m totally available. Or I say I'm not interested when clearly I am. I admire from afar and don't make the first move because it would feel awkward if I tried to do so.

It’s better to beat humiliation to the punch by pretending to be invisible to the human eye. When I do find a guy I like, I put out a fake persona, which is the person I wish I was. I bury everything deep underground - that way it protects him from the riptide.

I'm tired of not feeling like I'm enough.

I want the raging thoughts to cease. I should slow down and enjoy what's in front of me. I hate feeling like I have to walk on eggshells all the time. Feeling comfortable in my own skin is something I desire. People’s opinions shouldn’t matter. The mask needs to be thrown in the garbage. Anxiety needs to go away for good. It's time to stop the commotion.

I wish I could understand why I don't love myself or why I don't feel like I'm enough. If I heard someone else say what I say about myself, I would be devastated. I'm amazing at beating myself up: I can knock myself out cold with insecurity and self-loathing. I hate the reflection in the mirror, but I compliment others like I get paid to. It's only opposite ends of the spectrum. There's no balance.

Why can't I be as loving to myself as am to others?

The answer: I don't know. It's a work in progress. The Great Wall of China wasn't built overnight - self-love is the same. I think I've been hurt so much by other people because they can see that I don't love myself, so it makes me perfect prey. They eat me up like a four-course meal. I don't want to be prey, nor a predator.

Deep down, I know I'm these things: strong; worthy; beautiful; smart; a force to be reckoned with; kind; selfless; enough. I deserve my friends and family. I deserve to feel love the way everyone else does. I deserve to be in my sorority. I deserve my dream job of being a nurse. I'm done with being weak and powerless. I'm ready to change for good.

I want to believe that I'm enough, but I don't feel like I'm enough, and that's okay because I'm getting there.