I am constantly worried
About what tomorrow will be like
I'm scared of what will be
Or what won't be
What if I see you again
What if you come back
Or what if you dont
Or what if maybe
I never see you again
The phrase, "What if..." races through my mind every single day
And I never know what's going to happen
And it scares the ever living hell out of me

I'm sitting across from you
Thinking to myself
There isn't anything I wouldn't give
To make you stay for just a little bit longer

One day you look in the mirror
And you give yourself a thumbs up and say,
"I'm a champion"
And the next day
Looking back at the mirror
You think to yourself that what you see is repulsive
And disgusting
And that what you see is so disappointing
And you're not satisfied
And you start thinking,
"Is this really how people see me?"
Not good enough and never good enough
And you give up
And you stop trying to be that champion you saw yourself as before

When you're a child
You aim for the sky
You cast your nets far and wide
And aim your arrows high
Until the day that you realize that eventually everything falls
Eventually, the arrow will come back
And you don't have the freedom you thought you had
When you were young
And now you're stuck
Constantly looking into that same mirror
Thinking about all the time and money and resources that you don't have to do what you want
Or even the motivation to do what you want
Because now you know
That's not how the world works

San Francisco, CA

There isn’t anything I don’t love about winter
The cold air
The frozen ground
The painted sky
And you, next to me
Wearing layers, making us look three times our normal size
And the snow, that is, if you’re lucky enough to get snow
The lingering presence of happiness in the air
And the sound the ice on the ground makes when you step on it
Pale faces and rosy cheeks
And the burning of your hands when you go inside
And the idea that every single snowflake that falls
Is not like the other
And yet, they’re all beautiful
And those mornings when the sky looks like the shiny ombré pattern
On some dumb t-shirt of a 12-year-old girl
Who isn’t quite ready to grow up just yet
Who enjoys the cold air and the frozen ground
And who loves the snow oh so much
And sees the beauty in its flakes
And is devastated when winter ends
Because everything must come to an end
Much like this poem