When I was small
I walked on fairy dust and
my dreams were as tall
as skyscrapers towering
above the universe
inside of me, was the galaxy.
I was born of the cosmos,
full of light and love
passionate in my quest to
give this to others.
But as I grew my star began to fade,
stars need love and light to survive
and deprived of both my blazing fire
transformed into weak candlelight.
At school I had learnt it was easier
to hide your light
than to stand out as different
and be extinguished in an instant.
So I kept myself to myself
at the back of the class,
knowing the answers but not
shouting them out.
I daydreamed, and doodled
stars on the corners
of my books, all the while
I could hear the universe
calling out to me to trust,
that we are all born of this
cosmic stardust.

for as long as I can recall
sounds have been around and a part of me
sounds of the television
sounds of my siblings
of my parents
of music

so much sound around me
that I´ve neglected to listen
to the ones who echo in my head

when they come it´s late at night
when I lay down at the end of the day
they keep me from slumber
with their thundering vengeance
demanding to be heard

for when do I have the time to hear them?
when is it ever silent enough for them to speak to me?
can I really blame my surroundings?
or should I blame myself for not daring to listen?
am I too scared
for what they might say?

for they might confront me
with all my mistakes
and all of my wrongdoings
with wasted potentials
and uncertain futures

even more frightening;
whom is it that speaks?
is it God?
is it the Devil?
is it me?

Your net worth doesn't bring happiness, your self worth does.

To most she was broken.
To herself she was just fragments lying carelessly among the floor.
But to him she was life.
In his mind he took all of her pieces and put them together.
He never saw her as anything more than her and that was enough.
He only ever saw the good about her.
He was blinded by her beauty and wit.
And she was blinded with who she really was, behind closed doors the person only she saw, disgusted with herself.
But he'd never be.
He'd only ever love her and see her as life.
The only life he'd ever want to lead.

You do your best for others, to make them happy.
And most of the time they could care less, and continue to gloat about themselves.
So don't do things for others.
Do it for you.
You deserve to feel accomplished and be happy with yourself.
You are making progress and if others don't appreciate your journey, they shouldn't be apart of it.

I'm too happy for my circumstances.
But then when they get better the anguish sets in.

I hate the saying ’You have to love yourself before you can love others.’ Because you never even truly know who YOU are entirely. So how can you love somebody you don’t know? Lots of people do it very easily. But it’s just hiding from the reality of it all, of not knowing who you ‘love’ or yourself. Guess love is just an easily tossed around word at this point. Which is sad because it once had a definition and meaning to it all and now people just love everything without even knowing what love is itself.