Diagnosis

Do I want a diagnosis?
I still can't decide
would it be soothing
to have a name
for my shortcomings?

Part of me would be relieved
to know I'm not just a failure
that my inner struggles are
more than just imaginary
that they have medical substance

It might be a comfort to know
my distraction and distress
my lack of tolerance for 
frustration in any form
are not merely personal faults

But what if a definitive label
would be something I would use
as an excuse to clip my own wings
in yet another new way
a limit to my possible potential

It might reinforce my self-doubt
assure me that I'm inherently limited
in my creative and cognitive abilities
a dark stain on the one part of me
I've always felt proud of

The older I get, the less sure I am
that this brain is something superior
the intellect of the collective world moves forward
as it gets tangled inside it's own inner alleyways
unable to keep pace with progress

If I'm not the smartest person in the room
I'm not sure who I am at all
left doubting the one thing that
made me feel safe in myself
unable to trust even that

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