Sometimes I don't feel like I'm anyone's anything except maybe their problem
and I would give anything to gain the amount of love I give for others
My first steps were on eggshells, and I've been tiptoeing ever since
afraid of breaking the perfectly laid out path that was crafted of my own volition
I attempt to stomp on occasion,
but am met with glares in response to the sound

I want to be needed
but more than that I want to be wanted
and it's difficult for me to accept that
someone could want me in return

I've found people before who seem secure
yet every time the safety breaks and the steady smooth ride turns turbulent into a crash

I feel secure with you for now
our communication is clear and valued
but I can't help wondering how long this security could last
I doubt myself more often than not
I'm still waiting for the fall

I know there is a piece of my soul left somewhere in the discarded text messages on your phone
I know there is a trashed email from me in your inbox from years ago
and it's weird to think that the last time we spoke I was grieving something fierce
it's years later and I still grieve you

I still think about you often
worry over the ache you have instilled into me
catch myself going to say your name and letting the sounds of it get stuck in the back of my throat

I swallow

you were the person I thought I'd spend my life with
grow into the little old ladies who rock in their chairs on the porch
now I think back on those assumptions with a bitter taste in my mouth

I hear your name and panic
and I don't think it should be that way
I shouldn't fear every time something reminds me of you
but I think about the time we spent together with fondness and immense pain
you have given me nothing more than sour memories and trauma that walks beside me day after day

I hope you are doing well
I hope you are a better person than you were to me
I hope you never hurt someone as deeply as you hurt my heart
and I hope to never hear from you again

I don't think I could take it.

agitating and pitiful
polarizing--
bittersweet
I see the people I once knew very well become strangers
enjoy each other's time with care and honesty
a transparency I never felt I could be with them
Instead, the time is tinted in soft memories with the ghost of a past self who was timid in her own clothes
I watch as you enjoy and flourish
wings spread
already airborne
while my wax has melted, dried into a too thick clump
heavy with no clear goal in sight

I'm happy that you're doing well
that you are still friends
that you are thriving in the world you have made for yourself
but I watch
and I wither
and I weep in the garden of my own creation:
hollow and musk

to you it may look like I am merely surviving
and that may be true in some way
but I've found truer friends than you ever were to me
who don't judge
and continue to choose me again every day

it still hurts my heart to see you interacting
laughing with big smiles and jokes on your tongues
remembering a time where I could have been with you through it all
that year I left and was forgotten about still burns like incense
I've never been good at being someone people want to continue to be with
I usually push others away intended or not
but I'll still like your posts on the internet
and I'll comment on the pictures of you standing there at the wedding I never even saw an invitation for
and it feels funny for me to think I thought
one day I'd be standing there beside you all

I wrote my thoughts on yellow paper:
blue lines,
red margin,
I found relief in the feel of the smoothness against the side of my hand--
and I was content with life for awhile

but I realized that that life was false,
some abomination of the real world--
a place of kindness where there was evil,
a utopia where there was none

and my thoughts I think have become juvenile with age--
which is to say I feel childish in my emotions:
unable to feel the things that are important
instead of those problems which are just surface level

my anxiety is a demon clawing at my shoulder,
it holds and it holds and it holds--
it is stuck into me with sharp teeth and talons,
and it reminds me everytime I move my arm that it is there--
always watching,
always whispering
gurgled words I have long since known how to fear

and it's difficult to say why I feel this way,
maybe I was cursed ,
maybe I was just born unlucky,
or maybe it's been my fault all along
letting pathetic reasoning take place

I wish I could go back to that paper--
that yellow glare of comfort,
the easiness of feeling something controlled for once
but instead I speak about petty nothingness every two weeks--
too enamored with the idea of the now,
that I am unready and unwilling to open up the past

it always ends like this :
blank pages glaring,
forced steady breathing,
with the knowledge that avoidance is the same thing as accepting

I’m scared
And I hate to say that about myself
Because I have lived in a sense of false security for so long
Reliant on others because I can’t be reliant on myself
And I’ve developed this system of ignore, persist, and repeat
And I think its slowly draining me

There are moments when I can forget that my life is the way that it is
Self-medicating to prevent the anxiety from creeping up into my throat
Turning off the big light to blind myself from all the ugly pieces of me that I am ashamed of seeing
It is my instinct to believe that something is wrong with me

And I’ve never been good at being alone
Though I crave it all the same
When I am alone I can breathe in the darkness
Veiled by the idea that running away will one day have to stop

But I still find my legs striving towards to finish line
Try as I might take my time to get there
The idea of just completing the race urging myself forward
A success where I have never had any before

I am trying
And I am healing
And I know that it is not linear
I know I have many more obstacles ahead of me
But I think the want may finally outweigh the hatred and shame

she told me setting boundaries is being kind to myself
and I've never really been good at that
being kind that is
I will cower and fade to the detriment of myself  before I will admit that this is decidedly unhealthy

but I'm trying to do better
be better I mean
as a person I call myself cruel to be kind
as I know my mind better than anyone else's
and I know that it is condescending at best

but she tells me to be gentle
treat myself with patience and grace
but I have never liked my name

I don't know if fear exists in the absence of courage or it is accompanies it with a hand on its back
leading it into the forest among all the beasts that lurk there

I don't know if forgiveness should be this contractual obligation that it is in my mind
a softness I rarely allow myself to feel
and while you cannot **** me in a way that matters
I will still feel the blade forcing itself further
the sharpness a stinging not unlike lightening
a gripping of my heart in a too tight hand

she tells me to breathe
a laboring shaky breath that allows air into my lungs once again
the hollow void of the knife leaving behind a scar I cannot be rid of
a reminder of weakness in the face of a wicked beast

she tells me to be kind
to forgive myself for something I shouldn't have to forgive
and well,
I'm not very good at that part

I watch as they have petty arguments
make up in a day
and cuddle in the other room

and I want that trivial bickering
the kind that ends in laughter and soft kisses on the forehead

I see the way they care for each other
in playful glances and the small gestures of bringing the other a drink just cause
the pausing of a game to check in on the other
the cooking from one and the washing of the dishes from the other and I realize I want that

I want to be able to wake in the arms of another
feel supported and loved
cherished in a way I haven't been before
I desire the mundane
the splitting of chores
errands run in tandem

I crave the affection that can only come from another who loves and accepts me for me
someone who supports my dreams
and gets along with my friends and family

I want to share my space with someone who feels like they don't take up much of it
yet everywhere I look there'll be a reminder of them in my eyes
and I think of the song being alive and I think I understand