sometimes
it isn't enough
to just hug
or have my hand be held
in some sweet way.

i need you to hold me
like you mean it,
as though our souls
could actually
intertwine.

that's when it would
be more than enough.

growing up
is all a memory now,
i don't remeber
when i just magically
became a teenager.

but i know
im becoming who i
used to be.

shades of blue for my sorrow,
shades of grey for my tear stained pillow,
shades of teal for the ocean i used to watch,
and shades of orange for the sunrise that i never watched.

im bringing back
my good old friends --
emotion
and confusion.

i don't know
who i am
or what im doing.

because i magically
recieved all these
responsibilities.
i was never ready for this,
i sure never asked for it either.

we don't understand
how much something
or someone
means to us
once it's taken away.

i didn't realise how much
expressing ny emotions
meant to me
and my mental health
until hello poetry
went down.

sharing my feelings
with the world
really helped me realise --
im not the only one
going through this.

i connected with people
through words
i wrote
at a stupid hour
after a long day.

you don't realise
how much
you take for granted
until it's taken away.

we all feel
misunderstood
at some point in our lives,
whether its our whole life --
or a few times.

we all feel
misunderstood
for many different reasons,
and every single reason --
is valid.

but there's someone out there
who understands
every
word
that
you
say.

you just have to have patience.

dreams.

they're weird,
right?

a full movie plays out
in your little head
while you rest --
getting some shut eye.

but as soon as you wake up
your brain
has wiped every trace
of memory
that it had
of the movie.

all gone.

but it felt so familiar!
so safe...
so soft...
so warm...
so --
right.

but that's the whole reason
as to why
dreams are weird.

how am i meant
to know what my life
is going to look like
after highschool?

will i be in university?
studying what?
what job will i have?
where am i living?
what friends do i have?
did everyone leave?

how am i meant
to know
who i am
entirely
at 15
if most people
dont even know themselves
at 35?

writing these are dumb.

stupid even.

no one my age writes!
i feel so out of place.
alone,
drowning in my feelings almost.

i cant breathe.
being the odd one out
is already enough.
not this dumb nerdy trait too.

"she writes whenever she feels"

"uh oh! be careful she might write about you"

so what?
i can't exist now?

fine.

ill stop.
on the account of my anxiety
getting worse --
my attendance too.
my friends leave me slowly.

i grow distant from the world
when i get anxious
and my writing helps me with that.

yeah, let's stop writing
and let that happen.