i’m realizing freedom is in reach and it always has been. i don’t have to change the things around me or inside me. nurturing gratefulness and peace and love has never been easier or more rewarding. i'm remembering the reasons i gave myself away in the first place and they seem silly now. the loneliness i associated with myself was always a lie—my independence and strength lack nothing but the things i never needed in the first place.

a sort of desperation rises from the pit in my stomach and my hand darts out to catch her as she turns. “liza, i--”

“no!” she yanks away. “you can’t just come back here like this.” she looks to the side, looking at anything but me. “i can’t handle this, nick,” she whispers. “i can’t handle you.” her eyes are shining when they finally meet mine. “you and i, we’re too much. i can’t think about anything when i’m with you, and you,” she trails off and takes another step towards the door. “you never think at all.”

you say it is a "noble thing" to "be the same person to everyone" as if that is a choice i know how to make. you criticize my defense mechanisms unaware you activate them in doing so. don't you understand your wise and less than well-intentioned words perpetuate the behavior you claim to hate? i don't know how to stop changing without changing to do so.

i guess i am doomed to displease you. my mistake.

i am not the victim of my circumstance i am its
creator.
you feel that i hide myself but if i do
i forget where.
at this point any word that comes
from my mouth feels half-formed.
i don't think
i can be the glue
to fix this one.
you prefer me broken.

friendships are gardens and i make bouquets

he said i make people feel special.
i said i'd heard that before.

vulnerability isn't openness,
it's generosity.
you aren't showing yourself to others
you're giving parts away to them.