Regret anchoring
me down from reaching out, to
that what lies ahead.

One of my friends asked me
"Do you think I'm a good person"
My first instinct was to tell her
"Yes, of course!"
But then I remembered
There's no such thing
I explained to her that I believed
In bad actions
Bad intentions
But not bad people
Because who knows who they would have been if raised even slightly differently
And if it's not because of that
And they're simply born that way
It isn't their fault they are like that
Just bad luck

I say that her intentions are usually good
And so because of that
She should feel that way too

There is a
Time to learn
Time to make mistakes
Time to cry
Time to **** up
Time to make bread
Time to read
Time to love
Time to be hurt, and a
Time to hurt –
Time to apologise, and a
Time to forgive. 
Time to respond, rather than react
Time to rethink
Time to drink coffee
Time to let the dawn of new promises wash over me
Time, rebirthed and reclaimed,
The most precious commodity. 
But sometimes there's no time at all.
Oh, how we mistake its insignificance by drowning ourselves in unhealthy times.

Once when I was around 6 years old
I was ******
At my teacher
So I went and sat under the slide
And I wouldn't move
Even after the whistle was blown
And after my teacher yelled at me some more
And my friend joined me
And then left
And until they say they would call my mom
And that they were disappointed in me
I still sat
That was all I could do at my age to protest
And I did until I felt I had made my impact
Then I got up silently
And went in line
With a smile of satisfaction
And the reminisce of tears on my cheeks

Now
When I'm ******
I sit there
Clenching my fists
And do nothing else
(Outside of my head)

I wish I would be more like 6 year old me
Honestly

What is it that causes us to romanticize people we don't know?

As if their lives are somehow different than ours, as of they don't silently cry themselves to sleep at night.