letter to myself 2 in poetry

I’ve gotten better at turning frustration into grief
instead of anger and that’s better for others and yet
I don’t know if that’s actually better for me.
Doubt keeps you honest but too much doubt keeps you quiet.
It’s a hell of a line to psychically straddle sometimes.
There was a time in my life when I assumed by default
that what I believed was right because I was me
I don’t know if changing that made me an adult
or if changing that default just made me weak.
It’s all been a rollercoaster ride lately
lately the whole thing’s been a blur
the only thing I’m sure of is
I’m sure that I’m not sure
I’m sure that I’m not sure.