Why is it
that at 2:51 am
i am not enough?

at 2:51 am
i am alone here
not many people talk to me anymore
i haven't solidified many friendships
so everyone just
dissipates.

at 2:51 am
i can listen to old songs
that remind me of old times
and old stresses and old boys
old desperation to fit

yep

it's 2:51 am,
I am alone and that's exactly
how it should be.

tonight I realised,
the implications of having a pal,
someone who you see in both the moon
and sun,
someone who you would happily lay bare for,
secrets sprinkled and insecurities glistening.


tonight I realised,
the importance of self,
allowing myself to remain as whole as possible,
for when the other one starts to crumble,
i felt my torso dissipate.

tonight I realised,
the desperation of love,
something so tangible,
it is etched onto your corneas,
for when he shatters,
you can seldom hold it together.

tonight I realised,
I am really ******* in love,
and consequently ******* *******.

Writers write,
about love,
about self worth,
about doubt.

I write,
about the absence of love,
and then the struggles when it comes,

I write,
about self-worth,
it's importance and the consequential arrogance of my
self.

And I write
about doubt -
and my apparent addiction to it.

I wish we could write
about different things,
like the death of frogs,
or disappointing fries and burnt toast.

But I know,
that we write not out of choice,
but in search of solace.

I don't mean to sound ungrateful,
I know what I have;
i know how it feels to be in love,
I know how it feels to be settled.

Better than that,
I am accepted as I am,
and at face value,
I have my charms.

What is troubling me,
is the ceaseless confliction,
I am indecisive.

Yes I have found love and
I am content?

Yes, I know that he is ideal.
But my inebriated, fickle soul wants
exactly the opposite.

I get a rush,
blood surges to the surface,
vibrating throughout,
when I brush past boys I don't love,
boys that I don't need;
I feel like myself again.

I don't mean to sound ungrateful,
I know what I have.
He is wonderful, he is whole -
he accepts me for who I am;
it's just a shame that I do not.