Mediocre of Me

How can I be enough for you if I'm not even enough for me? What are all the ways I'm playing small? To be liked? To be loved? To be chosen? To be looked over? Looked past? Snarled at? Pushed past? Do I want to be seen or do I want them to see all the good things? The acceptable things? The strength? The sexy? The just enoughs? The mediocre of me? Where is the awe in that? Where is the ease in that? There is no ease in hiding. There is no ease in finding just the right shadow. There is no ease in figuring them out. There is no ease in the anticipation of rejection. There is no ease in choosing it. What lies behind the mediocre of me? What lays beyond it?