I guess you could call it poetic how by the age of 12 I had no recollection of what happiness tasted like on my tongue. Some would say it was tragically beautiful.
But it was not poetic, nor was it beautiful,  but it was tragic. It was so very, very sad, and that sadness is only doubled now that people see sorrow as glorious.  It is not glorious. It is not strength. It is a lump of iron in your chest and stomach and it eats you from the inside, out and you have no right to think that blood stained wrists are anything other than tragic. So very,  very tragic.

you

I discovered a country new to me today
and it makes me wonder what else i can find within myself
when I just spotted myanmar on the giant map
thats been hanging next to my bed for a year.

do you remember calling me up in the middle of the night asking me to help you find your childhood and how i would run to your house and how we would race to the playground where you would sit on the swing while i pushed you so hard that you would scream and laugh and exclaim about how heaven was in this very place

do you remember my weak lungs trying hard not to give up and my fragile arms growing tired and my hands with callouses and how i got tired after pushing you a hundred times

do you remember asking me why i kept pushing you when i felt so weak and tired and sleepy

and i told you that i kept pushing because the definition of my happiness was seeing you four feet up in the ground with your cheeks stretched and your teeth and gums exposed in the grandest laugh and that the feeling of my heart beating quickly was the greatest feeling of all

and do you remember when you asked me a week ago why i still stayed with you when you felt that everything was getting tiresome for me?

it's because i want to see your smile and your hands holding tight and because you are that ******* the swing and i would push you until you find your childhood or even if you never find it at all

nakedness is not just the absence of clothes.
be naked with your soul.

I'm eighteen years old and I don't understand ***.

I don't understand how people undervalue the thing that is literally one of the most important actions in this life.

You shouldn't bare your body, if you aren't willing to bare your soul. You should be comfortable naked.

And by naked, I mean, you should be okay with telling them all the reasons you hate yourself and let them tell you it's okay. You should be naked with the fact that your family hurt you and you grew up feeling lonely.

Be naked because you grew up with so, so many saddening secrets and now you find it so, so difficult to be naked with your soul.

I am trying to be naked
and I struggle with openness.

There is no point taking your clothes off to only hold the weight of life on your chest.

It breaks my heart to hear stories of friends that haven't grasped this concept. They're too embarrassed to share their secrets and the first time they made 'love' they wore a t-shirt.

don't miss out on the best things in life, get naked.