Entry ~
*I wonder what people see when they look at me. A girl with hazy eyes too tired to see? With ***** blonde hair, skinny legs, wearing an over sized black tee. A girl that smokes a lot of ****, and drinks way too much tea. Maybe they see the written travesty of me. Heard the stories of my early identity. How I used to be so easy and naive. Got down on my knees for the simplest "please" from boys who never gave a **** about me. It's no surprise I swore off boys when I was seventeen. Of course it didn't last. Girls never did it emotionally for me. And I wonder how much of this is perceived when people look at me. I can usually see it in their eyes. When buzzing questions of my puzzling past arise. I can read between the lines. I know everyone wants to know why. But there are no simple answers I can give to ease anyone's mind. My past isn't something I care to hide. I'm only human, and we all have a darkness inside. It took a long time to repair my pride. Something that shines bright through the haze in my eyes. I'm not ashamed. I know that I'm kind, and I've heard stories way worse than mine. I'm grateful and healed with a wonderful life. I've made mistakes, but shame is only relevant for a certain amount of time. I want people to see that when they look in my eyes. See that I'm living proof in the complexity of life. I'm the girl with hazy hazel eyes. With tight black leggings and a gap between my thighs. I have a tarnished reputation, and a silent observant eye. Even when I'm silent I'm fully present in mind. If you see me on the streets feel free to say hi, and don't worry I won't bite if you dare ask me why.

Thanks for putting up with
my mood swings and blues.

I learned how to love
by imitating you.

Entry ~
You were the first man that ever broke my heart. It was the day I was born. You held me in your arms and made me a promise that would rip us both apart. You promised to love me unconditionally from the start. But time passed and over the years those words faded from your heart. In the presence of a war when you had one foot out the door. There are vacancies in my memories where a father should have played a part. Like teaching me to drive a car, or telling me don't believe boys that say I love you from the start. Instead, I looked at every boy with tears in my eyes and willingly accepted every single lie, thinking maybe if I part my thighs they'll learn to love how broken I am inside, but they never do. Just like you they leave without a single clue and I'm left alone, used, wishing my daddy would have loved me too. And I'm not writing this to blame you, or break you, or tell you I hate you. I've made mistakes too. Ones deeply rooted in my relationship with you. And I get that maybe you didn't have a clue that your daughter was struggling in the world without you. But I relied on you to set the standard for boys I would let into my heart. By the time I was sixteen, I felt like a tortured piece of art. I learned to love myself of course. Over the years of ripping myself apart I learned to chart the darkness in my own heart. I don't blame you anymore for my broken parts. I'm healed from being angry at you. I'm writing this to tell you I'm sorry for failing you, and I'm sorry you failed me too.

Entry ~
I know you're scared. You should be scared. You're taking a huge leap of faith leaving the only "home" you've ever known. But that home you built isn't four walls, and a solid tin roof. It's your soul. It's that thumping in your chest that keeps you awake at 2am. It's the memories you've stored, locked away tight behind steel bars, because god only knows if those bars weren't there those memories would hit you like the eye of a storm. Calm at first, sweet, but then painful, like shards of glass beneath your feet. And I know how much it hurts to leave. To walk away from so many unresolved things. To remove yourself from the lives of people you rely on, that rely on you. But part of living is knowing when to leave. It's knowing when your environment no longer suits the shell you're in. It's easy to tell when that chapter of your life begins. It starts with a slow depression easing its way in, and an unexplained restlessness. I know how much you fight it. The warning signs telling you it's time to go again. You are so afraid of being free, but your curiosity has its own needs. It was never a choice being free. It's always been a part of your destiny. I know you've felt that unexplainable presence easing your anxiety. And it's okay to breathe. It's okay to just be. To not know where you're going to be next spring. It's all a part of the plan. You need to have faith that those guiding you won't lead you astray. You are being protected, and I know you aren't religious, but when you feel like you've lost your way, fall to your knees, and pray. Look for the butterfly, and have faith that one small act of courageousness will set your life in motion. But you have to be willing to take action first. So flap your wings, and don't be afraid of the tornado that follows. You created your fear, and only you can survive in the wake of it.