Be your own creator.
Mold yourself to look or act however you want,
and don’t forget that it’s never too late to change.

Be your own source of love.
The most intimate connection you will ever have
is that with yourself.

Be your own judge.
You answer to no one but yourself,
so don’t disregard your feelings to please anyone or anything.

Be your own shepard.
While you may not be able to control everything,
you have the power to forge your own fate.

Be your own salvation.
Don’t wait for someone to save you,
you’re strong and capable.

And finally,
Please don’t concern yourself with death.
All that does is waste the precious time you have to live.

You don’t need validation.
You have already received it
through the simple act of being born
the beautiful, imperfect creature that you are.

There is no secret meaning to life,
Nor is anyone special.
To be honest, I don’t really care.
I’m not too fond of fate,
And I never wanted to be special.
I simply wish to live,
And create my own purpose.

It’s human nature to search for meaning
In the most meaningless of things.

How do I express,
To the people I love most,
That the emptiness I feel
is no fault but my own?

It’s funny.
I’ve always hated you
Because I thought I had to.
I would take every opportunity
To make fun of the way you looked,
The way you sounded,
The way you acted,
The way you thought.
I began to go out of my way to ignore you,
And you began to go out of your way to avoid me.
You stopped talking about your interests.
You started to dress boringly to blend in.
You let your hair grow out to hide your face.
It got to the point where
I began to forget
That you ever existed at all.
And when that happened
My life was stripped of all joy,
And I became nothing more
Than a walking corpse.
However,
I think I’ve finally realized
how badly I need to liberate you.
I have to let you share the things you enjoy.
I have to let you dress the way you want.
I have to let you think and act freely.
Most of all,
I have to let you be yourself.
Because you really are quite beautiful,
And I love you.

What is this feeling?
Or rather, lack there of.
A constant longing…
For what?
What need do I have for love
if all it will bring is pain.
Perhaps pain is the very thing I seek.
At least then this void would be filled,
And I could pretend to be whole.