whenever I try to write poetry, I have a tendency to make things more minuscule than they really are.

I don't let my true colors show in fear that someone may notice how I really am feeling.

Because I like to convince myself that I'm fine. I convince myself that I'm better than I was two years ago.

And maybe I am. Maybe this is as happy as I'm going to get. That is, if happiness means having anxiety attacks at parties or crying over the small flaws of my day.


Happiness might also be letting people use me and reject me. If that's what happiness is, then I'm over the moon.

Face the facts. I'm talking to you. And me. And everyone in between.

Broken.

Notice I didn't say "I'm broken." Or "you're broken." Or "we're broken."

That's because it's for you to decide. You have to be true to yourself.

Broken.