i write, because i’m not sure who else to be.
i’m 16, but the weight of this world—
it feels heavier than it should be,
like a heart that’s growing old
before it even learns how to beat right.

i don’t feel enough.
not good enough, not strong enough,
not worthy of love, or kindness,
or the friendships i hold so tight
because i’m terrified to let go
even though the grip hurts.

it’s harder to exist when you feel like you’re just floating.
i tell myself i’m fine, but i’m not.
i’m tired of pretending i’m whole
when i’ve left pieces of myself
scattered in the people i loved
and now i can’t find them anymore.

i know, i should be better at letting go.
but how do you stop holding on
to the one person who once made you feel alive
when they’re the same one who now brings you to your knees?

they say time heals everything,
but i think time just buries things deeper.
i bury my emotions in my poetry,
where no one can see the cracks,
where i can pretend
i’m not drowning in my own words.

i’m learning to forgive,
but i still don’t know how to forget.
i give so much,
but it feels like no one gives enough back,
and i wonder if they can ever love me
the way i love them.

i’ve pushed people away
because i’m scared of them leaving first.
i’ve hurt others
because i didn’t know how to handle the mess inside me.
i’ve told lies to protect my heart
and made promises i can’t keep.
but i keep trying to make them feel heard
even when i’m screaming for someone to hear me.

i’m not perfect,
and i don’t expect anyone else to be either.
but how do i find peace in a world
where i’m always trying to make sense of things
that don’t make sense?

i want to be seen,
but not for who i think i am,
but for who i could be.
if i could be free,
if i could just be me,
i’d show you all the pieces i’ve been hiding,
the ones i thought were too broken to share.

but for now, i’ll write
and hope you hear me through these words.
i’ll hold on to the ones who love me
the way i want to be loved
and keep searching for the strength
to let go of the ones who won’t.

maybe one day i’ll find my place.
but until then, i’ll keep writing,
because it’s the only thing
that makes me feel whole.