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but above all I am tired of trying to be anything else
his manipulation become the sharpest of blades
my soul burns with the forever unresolved need for everyone to like me
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
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
there is beauty in our ability to be surprised to survive pain to learn from sadness
I’m always waiting for a text back a paycheck a day off some good news better weather a new idea
crazy is just a word men created to dismiss the way their actions hurt other people
I crave a love that is simple with a man who does not mind that I am not
