I think I need a new heart,
Mine has been torn and ripped apart.
You held it in your hands,
It was all yours, do you understand?
There's a saying of wearing your heart on your sleeve.
That does not apply, mine is worn on my face.
Something which I've been trying to embrace.
But this cannot be when my softness is taken for a weakness,
And my vulnerability is exchanged with no accountability.

From a young age I tried to fit in,
Observing those around me from where i was sitting.
Taking in their smiles, jokes and body language,
Learning this social code which they use to their advantage.
My manual is not the same,written entirely for me but I have not read it properly.
Navigating a world where I copy to survive,
Forver wondering if I sustain this will I learn to thrive?
I have become a result of continuous masking,
In social situations I feel like I am drowning.
Living in a world which does not feel for me,all I can do is write about my isolation in poetry.

When i am asked who was my first love
I do not name that girl  in 2020
I speak the name of a woman who is just so heavenly.
Five albums have become my whole life scriptures
Her voice fills my ears so full that I feel exactly what she did when she put pen to paper.
A striking look to match her voice, her flowing red hair and vintage gowns.
She has become my escape , my anchor, my companion, when I need help I know with her music I know I'm much safer.
Words sung in celebration of femininity and fairytale, folklore and fantasy.
Fans line the barrier in flower crowns and glitter on their faces ready to give themselves, as human sacrifices to that lady singing and dancing on stage.
Every song feels like a comfort blanket but alse a wave of intense emotion.
She has given me not just music but a wider connection to other people who live for the euphoria.
I know I wouldn't be me without her music, and what it has done for me.
You are truly magical, Florence and the machine ✨️.

I love her,
I love her like the sea returns to the shore and I love her because her breath on my skin feels like a heart beat on the outside of my body.
I love her because her smile gives the sun competition for lighting up the room.
I love her because her voice soothes me like liquid gold entering my ears.
I love her because she buys me flowers which bring me sunshine everytime I look at them.
I love her.
I love her because her red hair entwined in me is the perfect way to wake up.
I love her like the way that my heart races when my eyes lock on hers.
I love her like seeing things that remind me of her when I'm shopping and then crying because of it.
I love her when we connect on a song and it becomes a part of our story.
I love her because we fit together well like our bodies were meant to feel and touch the way they do.
I love her because she dries my tears and holds me when I am upset, making me feel safe and at peace.
I love her like we are the perfect equation, like 1+1=2 and me plus you=us.
I love her.

It started with your standard tinder date.
I think we both agree if now feels like fate.
When we first met we were yearning to touch,
now i know i love you so much.
When i look at you time stops still,
and when you smile you give me such a thrill.
Two days before my birthday I made you mine.
It really feels like i have known you a life time.
Sofi you make my heart feel electric
and what we have is cosmic.

I have two facts for you that exist in my mind -
1. I am normal
2. I do not 'feel' normal
I have never considered myself to be normal.
I knew i wasn't normal when at the age of eight after my Dad left my school hired a counsellor just for me,
and i wasn't normal how after then i was the only pupil to be from a single parent family.
I wasn't normal when just after this abandonment my body entered early puberty,
and so feeling weird didn't stay a feeling, it became a reality.
Picked on for things out of my control, i felt like a freak.
Even at the age of eight, every aspect of my identity was up for scrutiny.
I knew i wasn't normal when in secondary school i would purposely get detentions
to spend time with teachers, because the the turmoil of the school yard was a teenage no man's land.
The company of those my own age is something i will never understand.
I knew i wasn't normal when i would hesistate in conversation when someone asked me who i fancied in my class.
The name of a random boy rolled from my tongue in an attempt to not blow my cover.
I knew i wasn't normal when my tweets coming out as bi were passed around like breaking news.
When i tried to defend myself in the interrogations, teachers would sternly say to me -
'That's not appropriate to be talking about in school' like my sexuality was a hushed secret, even though the straight girls were never silenced.
I knew i wasn't normal when i had to say i was bi, when in fact this was a lie. A lie to help me pass, pass and hold on to some straight privilege.
At the age of sixteen i questionned my worth and value as a person, trying to blame myself for the treatment i was subjected to.
I knew i wasn't normal when i decided to place my emotional pain onto a physical space, then patching up the damage as a form of ironic self-care.
I left school for a college, desperately seeking freedom from the constraints of a Catholic school.
I never felt comfortable in sixth form, being there my mind felt like a spinning waltzer i was strapped to for two years.
At seventeen i knew i wasn't normal when i was prescribed the maximum dose of sertraline, then mirtazapine, venlafaxine, fluoxetine.
By this point in my life i was on a tally of maybe six counsellors and two CBT therapists.
I knew i wasn't normal when i started to blame myself for the therapy not being successful. Maybe i was just meant to be depressed.
Changing my thinking styles, emotional regulation, journalling my feelings and triggers, i knew exactly what i had to do.
I knew i wasn't normal when i clung onto certin things as comfort, like my adoration for florence and the machine.
I started to experiment, toying between wanting to fit in and wanting to be myself, painting bright eyeshadow on my lids as a vibrant mask to carry me through.
I knew i wasn't normal when i reached out to the local crisis team experiencing auditory hallicinations, hearing sounds only meant for my ears.
My emotional states are a product of my trauma, which is difficult to navigate as the world's greatest performer.
Maybe i was meant to face this internal torment, or until now i hadn't considered i could be neurodivergent.

When I was 10 I started to eat too much.
Confusing over indulgence for self love, in an attempt to fill the emptiness inside me.

Every bite was a distraction from the isolation,
Food shopping became an escape from the class room and as i got heavier, the guilt did too. Hanging over me like a shadow that never leaves.

I was 18 when I had the urge, a desire to get it out of me, the answer was to purge.
A teenage ******* a secret mission, this was the result of my messed up cognition.