No one sees me the way I see myself. And that’s very beautiful because it’s something I can harbor all to myself— no one can ever see me the way I do— simply because they’re not me.
It’s something I can call my own, myself, my own identity.
Wholly and unequivocally me.
And no one can change what I’ve decided to make of myself.
What opinions I’ve declared my own, how I free up my heart for just anyone.
How I believe anyone can change. How I split my heart open, even for a dying ant on the pavement.
And I weep for it.
And I weep for you.
And I weep for the world.
For there is no greater good than feeling everything and nothing all at once.
For weeping even for the unfortunate,
the unlucky,
the undeserved,
is inherently me.
And I’ve decided that for myself.
Maybe you couldn’t see it the same way.