i do not believe in holding things in.

that is how bottled messages collect on deserted beaches,

how unaddressed letters begin filling desk drawers,

how unanswered questions spill over into one word midnight conversations.

communication was created for a reason,

verbal expression and languages formed in order to allow humans to connect.

when did words become so disconnected,

a way to fill space, a burden, something that has to be done.

when did silence become louder than heated debates,

texts become more crucial than ‘working it out’ over coffee,

media posts become more legitimized than countless apologies for the same god ****** thing over and over again.

who taught us to swallow our inner conflicts and emotions?

who said expression was weak and suppression was strong?

who taped our mouths and allowed our finger tips to take over,

a society of silence and screens?

I am not a door mat.

You can’t just come in and out whenever you please, stepping all over me as you do so.

"Welcome home."

A home is supposed to be comfortable, and that is one thing I am not, and so you are no longer welcome.

My door is shut, locked twice, chain and ****, tight as ever.

Nothing is getting in, so you can stop banging and yelling.

Although this is the most emotion I’ve seen you express in God knows how long, and you look so handsome through the peephole.

You knock so hard it almost feels like the wood is going to crack under your fist, but I built it to endure even the most powerful storms.

I’ve created floods stronger than your knuckles, earthquakes with my wails and hurricanes with my spinning, swirling mind.

You think you can break me, but you can’t, because I’ve already tried.

And trust me when I say, no one wants to destroy me more than I do.

Your mother knows best, always.
2. You will promise to always be friends with people who you will eventually fall out of touch with. It's okay to be okay with this.
3. You will think you've lost a friendship, only to return and realize nothing has changed. Distance doesn't define a friendship.
4. It is okay to do whatever you need to do in order to feel alive. However, it is not okay to be self destructive. There is a fine line.
5. Space is not a bad thing. Sometimes you need to distance yourself in order to see the bigger picture.
6. Ask questions, even if the answer may hurt or embarrass or sadden you. Never allow yourself to be blinded.
7. You are no longer a naive little girl. You are a woman now, and you deserve to be treated like one no matter what. Don't make excuses for the people who make you feel like less.
8. It is okay to be scared. Embrace your fears, because when you do, your life will change for the better.
9. Make time to love and care for yourself. Sleep in, treat yourself to lacy underwear that only you will see, buy an $8 cappuccino even though you're broke.
10. Don't let others tell you what should make you happy. Only you know that, so don't let others guilt you into thinking you should be doing anything differently.
11. Turn off your phone when you need to get things done. If that means turning it off for the whole day, do it. You won't be missing out on anything, I promise.
12. Don't put up with people who make you feel like you are lesser than them. It's okay to walk away, without explanation.
13. Invest in a good pair of jeans, a high quality mascara, a bright red lipstick, and a push up bra. All of these will make you feel **** as hell.
14. Friendships aren't based on distance, time or proximity, but rather how much someone is there for you emotionally, consistently.
15. Sometimes, a night out with the girls is better medicine than anything else. Sometimes, you just need a good nights sleep.
16. You belong to you before you belong to anyone else. Don't let others feel as though they own you, or should come before you.

I’ve been waiting for a sign to tell me what to do next, but I’ve discovered that maybe there’s small hints in everything, that we don’t initially notice.
Like how big you finally feel under a sky of a thousand stars, or how good it feels to run barefooted through a parking garage.
It could be hidden under the words of a kind stranger, or the way he talks to you like maybe you’re more important than you thought before.
Maybe it’s masked by the lacking I love you’s and the way he doesn’t quite feel like home anymore.

I think you have to really look for them, or maybe just let them happen and realize afterwards what you had missed when you saw his hand reaching for yours.
A season of change is scary, but it is okay to shed the old skin of an old version of you to embrace a new reality.
Go towards what makes you feel like running up five flights of stairs to lay in the middle of a roof top in the freezing cold, your laugh carrying through the night air.
Open your arms to what makes you feel warm in the middle of the November wind.
Let your heart explore what you are trying to push aside in your head.
It is okay to feel things that you’ve never felt before, but it’s not okay to ignore them.

When the thought of him makes your throat close and your eyes water,
in the middle of a coffee shop far from home,
maybe it’s a sign that your love is bitter, like black coffee,
stinging your lungs in the last sips, burning your lips, erasing his taste slowly.

When the sight of him makes your mind go blank, urges you to cross the street when the light is barely yellow,
maybe it’s a sign that you would sacrifice too much of yourself,
for a boy who would wait seconds after the shades signal a definite yes.

When the smell of him makes your heart beat faster than a taxi cab in rush hour,
horns blaring amongst the commotion of busy feet and lagging conversation,
maybe it’s a sign that you should be heading the other way,
towards a sunrise instead of the hues of a dying sunset.

Maybe it’s a sign that instead of knowingly heading to the end,
you should turn yourself around and go back to where you started.
The purple and orange blaze holds nothing that you need,
and you deserve a beginning instead of a sinking smile in the horizon.

I think the best way that I can describe anxiety is that it’s always there in the back of your mind, in the pit of your stomach, in the lump in your throat, even when you’re smiling or laughing or dancing or running.
It isn’t bigger than everything else you’re doing but it feels like it. It’s like a parasite, this small thing that has the ability to completely take over your body whenever it feels like it.
It doesn’t matter what mood you are, all you can ever feel is “anxious,” which might be mixed with other emotions but really, when you feel it, nothing else can matter. It forces it’s way to the front line and pushes everything else aside.
It changes the way you see things like the sun and the flowers and the buildings and it changes the way you hear things like your favourite song and the sound of the subway arriving and the wail of a siren. The sun is too bright and the flowers remind you that things around you are growing but you are not, and the buildings just confirm that everything in this world is so much bigger than you and your small problems, and your favourite song just makes you cry and the subway makes you miss home and the sirens make you long to be back home where you could hear crickets and rain and silence.
Anxiety makes everything bigger and more complex than it was ever meant to be, but all you can do is live with it and stay away from busy intersections and isolated alleys and roof edges and try not to cry in public and just hold it together.
What else can you do?

I thoughts that airplanes and road trips would fix me.
I thought I could fill the cracks with bits of every new adventure,
with street lights and tequila shots from strangers who called me beautiful,
rough hotel sheets and slurred conversations with blurred faces.
I thought I could match up my scars with locations on a map, trace them to find something more fulfilling, heal them with sea water and one night stands.
But then I realized that it wasn’t the place, it was me,
and no stamp on a passport could rewire my mind.
I was always bound to end up on the balcony overlooking seas and sidewalks,
wishing I was whole enough to jump without losing every part of myself on the way down.
Hanging over the railing talking myself in and out, and on to the comfort of the bathroom floor, creating my own oceans.