Soak it in
It is free
Let this sink in
We are free
I do not have to ask
I do not have to say it again
All we have to do
Is think it is possible
And we'll see
Pluck out the anxiety
Because it knows not who or what
It really wants to be
Erase the uncertainty
Turn it into a seed
We are free
15 April 2016 (3:33pm)
in a room full of my friends
i am all alone
and i am so tired of feeling this way
this constant sense of inadequacy
constant need to prove my worth
i don't owe you anything
i don't owe you an explanation
i don't owe you evidence of how 'cool' i am
fuck you for thinking that way and honestly just fuck off
I'm tired of caring so much for people who can't even summon up a fuck to give about me.
i am just so tired and exhausted of this constant marathon that is school and the constant race to be the most popular or the hottest or the smartest
i don't even care if my crush likes me back
i just want to be free from expectations and worries
free to live life the way i want to without fear of judgement and just free
She looked a little pale
In the yellow light.
The spots had been
Changed to white.
And when the white
Couldn't hide her pallor,
She asked the makeup
To put on a brighter colour.
They didn't ask if she had eaten.
They tried once,
Came back browbeaten.
"Diet only for ma'am"
Her abdomen perfectly satisfied;
Her soul craving for more.
The perfect shot
Ended with a sweeping glance
Across the set
At her hero all decked
In the knightly splendour.
She was a princess whom
He saved from a dragon.
Little did anyone know
That after a day's worth
Of angry cameras panning
Her face and scrutinising her life,
She needed saving
Mostly from herself.
This time, a thriller.
She walks down the corridor set
- Director's thumbs-up,
To hunt down the culprit
Who snatched her family.
She gives the perfect action sequence,
Complete with blood trickles.
"An award winner, surely."
She is done with the shoot
And heads home, her van.
Someone is waiting.
He had been waiting since she left
Him that summer.
Waiting for an excuse, at first.
She gave it her best performance,
But could not fake the relief
When he approached with an apology
And a gun.
I don’t know what I’ll do when I walk out those doors.
Bathed in blue, with the persistent chatter in my mind:
I’m afraid, after all these years, I won’t know ‘stress free’
I can’t help but to feel that after all these years
Stress isn’t what’s on the plate in front of me
Or on the calendar before me
But in my mind.
It’s a mentality that doesn’t go away simply because I
walk a stage or receive a piece of paper
It’s hard not to feel,
that it’s not a burden on our shoulders,
but something in our blood.
After all these years, it’s hard to see myself free of the feeling
that hasn’t let go since.
I started writing to spill out my inside
To imagine things without judgement
To tell hidden secrets to the world
I started writing for my happiness
To lift the world off my shoulder
if only for the time being
I started to write to feel free
Free of drama and stress
Free of pain and depression
I learned how to channel it into
this was my self expression
but soon the inspiration
the way i let go
and here I am now
left with feeling i can't describe
stuck with a cliche
I want a night of dancing
until our feet hurt
and we've touched in new ways
I want a night of loud music
until our voices are gone
and we can only hear the bass pounding in our ears
I want a night of staying awake
until the moon goes down
and we don't have to wake up in the morning
I want a night
where nothing matters
but the dancing
and stress free