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they tell you to love yourself before you let anyone else so now here I stand on this mountain of confidence and achievements I’ve spent my whole life building and I look around wondering if anyone will even know how to find me all the way up here
a love letter for the desperate, exhausted seducing promise
I am a collection of the unwanted
a knife to split open your veins until the truth runs down your fingertips and collects into some semblance of understanding
I’ve lived inside of my head for so long sometimes I forget there’s an entire world outside of it
"Me and the spiral are done." - Selena Gomez
and somehow I found myself with tears in the corners of my eyes laying there and waiting for it to be over
No. Truer. Words. Have. Been. Spoken.
and I wonder if I will ever be able to unlearn all of the hateful things society has taught me to think about myself
I’ve spent too much time agonizing over if I am enough poetry for people who don’t want poetry at all
I am not a windup toy or an application for an award I am not tireless or only worthy when I am succeeding - things to remember
the jeans I wore in high school don’t fit me anymore and neither do some of my dreams - it’s okay to let those go too
that it feels like my skin is trying to escape from my body
and I refuse to resent or criticize it the way everyone else does when it’s doing the best it fucking can
sometimes I worry that I’ve wasted all of my love on the wrong people on the boys who didn’t know how to be men on the friends who never bothered to stay on the family who only used that word when it was convenient and I can’t help but wonder if love is a well that you can run out of
the world’s greatest lie is that we should strive to be happy all the time a full range of human emotions at our disposal and we want to limit ourselves to a single one there is beauty in our ability to be surprised to survive pain to learn from sadness what a tragedy it would be to feel only joy how empty we would be to feel only happiness
the relationship you have with yourself is the only one that will withstand your life
and it’s okay if you spend that entire time working on it
there is fear in the memories that resurface from the depths of the years I’ve repressed in the versions of myself I’m still trying to escape
I’m always waiting for a text back a paycheck a day off some good news better weather a new idea and as soon as it comes the clock resets and I start waiting for something else - how much time have I wasted this way?
being the center of attention on a day to celebrate me is dictated by the ability to have others around to celebrate
am so very very tired of people who preach their love of life while leaving all of the ones already here to rot they are up in arms trying to make women prisoners inside of their bodies but don’t blink an eye at the children too afraid to go to school or a movie theater because they may never make it home we are a country so desensitized we’re out of our minds and utterly bled dry of humanity
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