photographs are the representation of the countless memories

we see the big picture,its nice focus on the blurred out background filled with smiles and faces with expression of fulfillment.

Being accepted by others; Step 1 - be yourself

Snickers of secrets come from each corner

the process is still mind numbing
the silence is deafening and now i'm stuck starting at the faces that embarrassed,
humiliated,
and laughed at me.

but thats me repairing myself
fake it til you make it

starting over means exiting your past.

it started young
              
                  before I could walk

I was taught to believe
    
                 and to this day
  
I still do

                  this grows over years, stronger and stronger

miracles do exist

                 I've seen more than enough to believe

I've witnessed him in work
      
                 I am a piece of recovery that comes from him

I am a piece of his work, and I am beautiful

                 I don't get acceptance from others, I get it from him

you're not his second choice or overlooked

                  He is most powerful

I hope you take consideration



                                                                                          K.B

Boulders are weight down on me...
Compacting my thought process, strangling the words that I'm trying to pass on....

The moon sits on me as if the stress wasn't enough, not including the names that come out of others mouth. The words that people think define, identify, and make me

But they are wrong

On a scale of **** to **** I've been called all..Despite those names, THESE are the one that matter.

Marvelous, go getter, dream catcher, insightful, wise, and beautiful

I like to believe I made myself to who I am.
I like to think that I...that I am a work in progress and improving on the way.

Until now, I thought they were right
I thought I was everything less than human..To societies standards I meant nothing. I didn't meet their standard, my talent didn't matter nor did the help that I assisted other. The only thing that mattered was my appearance and wrong choices I've made

Until now I thought that was who I am. I am much more than that, and I am aware now.

it began with a look from afar

gossip between friends, late night calls, and snickers of secrets

it spread like a virus

he began to acknowledge, talk, and that smile that blew up like a volcano

first date, how about a stomach is a pit of nervousness

it developed into something called love

his eyes were filled with the reflection of me

i realized the importance of me is equivalent to his possession for cars

i never knew its possible to mean that much to someone

the sea of butterflies went over me like a bullet that paralyzed me

his arms wrapped around me like it was his world

he looked and spoke
"here is to forever"

lifting yourself up is just one of the stepping stones to repairing yourself to what you used to be

to what other people call "the old you" but newsflash its not my choice
I dont get a say

They said how your heart races and butterflies developing your stomach only happens when someone you love is holding you

I used to have that

except that was not past no longer part of me butterflies rise so high I feel anxious

I used to miss that his lips hands touch boys and sense of security he gave me

he has it rough that doesn't mean I don't care for him anymore I still think of him everyday but he played me like a broken violin that lost their strength has only Few Strings left because it was left in the attic untouched in the banded and alone I was played used and dissected to see vulnerable parts of myself

I was naked the countless amounts of mistakes he made I always forgived Him because then I could not imagine not being with him and I know I look young when I'm tired of hearing that typical
"Your to young you don't know what love is" because let me tell you you don't know how I feel you almost finished had because you're not me


the definition of love doesn't come from a number called age or even the number of weight or the number and in jeans

I remember the first time I looked in his eyes

the first felt touch and unknown feelings

the first uneven amount of butterflies in the pit that is my stomach

the belief that he loved me was blinding me from creating that truth that lied right in front of me  

it was all a show completely fake a affinity of lies a set full of false feelings

thats when my wall comes up

I guarded myself

he made me who i am

and im okay with that

                      Because im okay with me

a loss of times
a loss of memories
a loss of plans
a loss of control
all side effects of moving on

my lungs are filling with water that represents suffocation

the suffocation is a parasite that i cant escape away from

it pins me at my most vulnerable i don't get a choice

it had to try and get away
i had to

it **** many mountains to climb and streets to run

after many mistakes and scratches after the fights with him

i've made it
i've done it
i won.

I know what its like to be scared of your own mind
examining yourself
trying to escape the prison that is your brain

pictures do hold a thousand words

and actions are louder then words

words only speak what your body cant say

its a sea of endless conversations and a field of small talk.

Smiles so wide they can touch the moon

bursting your eyes so wide they can even see the joy

laughing so hard until breath no longer flows

memory by memory, make it your best

this is all you get

                                  You don't get to come back