A wound I mistook for healed
Opened itself last night
I slipped and spiraled
In my skin
And I remembered what it was like
To be fourteen again
And miserable with every glance
In the mirror
—
Oh teenage girl,
I wish I could love you
Into healing
I long to soothe you
Into breathing
For now,
I keep you shut
In the back of a dusty drawer
One day,
I‘ll learn to love you

Power lives in my bones.
I have been manifesting
Since birth.
The planets align for me
And the stars can’t help,
But light my path.
Even in the pits of pain -
I rise
And I endure.
„Bad times never last,“
My father says.
I understand now -
The galaxies have never been out there,
Or out of reach -
But in me.

I wish nothing more
Than to be understood,
To be seen for what I am -
My truest form.
Why do you reject me?

I am not in need of anyone‘s approval.
Yet, it seems silly and meaningless
To live life without someone loving
All parts of me.
I long for commitment,
An interest to my soul
And all that comes with it.
Or is the longing itself that‘s foolish?

Worry is the constant of my life, it has accompanied me in big and small moments - forever familiar to my body. It has feasted on my self-doubt, my fearfulness and my uncertainty. It has ruined my self-confidence - ****** the life out of me in the same breath.

No amount of self-help books or breathing techniques can cut Worry from my limbs. It has grown roots in my heart, my lungs and my brain. It has become a part of me, and I am otherwise incomplete.

I feel it all of the time - judging me, manipulating me, stealing my joy in moments meant to be my happiest.

Oh, how I wish to put it down, like a glass of water. Chug it. Swallow it. Forget all about it.

You seem nervous,
Like a guilty criminal -
You fidget
And avoid.
You try to break me with your words.
Your tactics don’t work on me.
You‘re not scary,
Nor do I feel smaller than you.
And if I were you,
I‘d be scared of my potential, too.