God. How am I still not okay?

God. It's been so long.

God. I'm so tired of life right now.

God. What happened to me?

I was such a nice kid.
I was calm all the time.
Mature for my age,
Little but so lively.

I was so helpful.
So loyal.
I always supported my trust.
But I never really spoke my mind.

I was shy.
I was small.
I never stood up for my feelings
I never stood up for myself.

And now I'm older.
I realize I don't need support.
I need myself.
I need confidence.

Speaking your mind is not wrong.
Standing up for your feelings isn't rude.
Standing up for yourself isn't mean.
Saying what you feel doesn't make you imperfect.

No one's perfect. Not even them.
The ones you hate for being so amazing.
Maybe she has anxiety.
Maybe his mom is alcoholic.

No one has a perfect life.
There's not one perfect family in the world.
There is not a person in the world who's perfect.
There's not a person who doesn't have one bit of strife.

But just because you aren't perfect.
Doesn't make you less worth it.
You're amazing.
You're still charming, kind, and strong.

You're just more experienced.
You just understand some more things now.

And maybe, just maybe,
You just aren't as shy anymore.

Nightmares hurt.
The emotional pain,
and the physical pain.
I can't count
how many times
I've woken up
to be
haunted by
my own
mind
and what
I think of.
I can't even
imagine
the times
I've woken up
with a
headache,
a heartache,
or both.
I can't begin
to reason
why my mind
has such a
vivid
perception
of what
a gunshot
feels like.
Or what
drowning
would be like.
But I've
dreamed them
so many
times,
It feels
like I've
lived them.
And please don't think
for a second
that's every
night.
There are the
good dreams
too.
The happy ones
where
everything
is alright.
But those hurt
way more.
Because
when I wake up,
I can
feel them being
torn away
by Morning.

It's funny, I think.
I guess it doesn't matter
If my soul is whole
Or torn and tattered.

There's a part of me
That finds peace in the night.
But that part of me
Doesn't always sound alright.

I like to wake up early,
When the world is still dark.
I sit and I wait,
To see if I recognize any part.

I am often reminded
Of hearts I've held in my palms.
I remember them fondly,
Each and every one of their songs.

Some nights,
The past drenches me in a cold sweat.
Some nights,
You remind me not to forget.

Some nights,
I can't tell my truth from their lies.
Some nights,
I find my home staring in your eyes.

I feel myself falling
Into pools of blue
Twirling threads of gold
That always lead me back to you.

Living in your heart
Is walking through a forest
On a cool, mid-Spring morning.
The waking birds and budding flowers rapidly become our chorus.

The ground beneath me
Sinks and soon gives way,
I plummet through the night sky
And find myself waiting on every word you say.

You brush my hair behind my ear,
Kiss the top of my head.
I realize you still think I'm asleep,
As you hold me close to you in our bed.

I smile to myself.
Old wounds begin to seal shut,
Scar tissue holding strong.
My soul, though worn, no longer cut.

Falling into the warmth
Of the heart I know so well
Reminds me of the life we share
That I always tend to dwell.

The loss of a love,
now but a distant memory
still lingering in my mind;
It hurts, but I’m not sad.
A thousand deaths,
whether it be from this world,
My past or my present;
It hurts, but I’m not sad.
The pain upon my brain,
In my heart and in my soul;
It hurts, but I’m not sad.
Yet I still throw myself
at this life, at this world
and the broken thing always
comes back with a smile on it;
It hurts, but I’m not sad.