In all my goodness, I am broken.
I find myself...to caring.
I find myself...to attached.
I find myself to involved with trying to bring a little bit of star shine into your life.
And in the end...
I'm left with this mess.
A bag full of insecurities and flaws.
Thrown to side...
Though made of china... it doesn't matter.
Because we view people, as objects
And that's the problem...
We aren't,
We are all stars from the sky,
And though some may fall...
We are all beautiful, unique...
Stars

There is this conceptual idea of the I and Me.
The I is the pure, unadulterated impulse that we all contain.
The me is how we learn to see ourself through the other.
... The other
That buries away the little bit of magic in our life.
That magic...that some of us just can't hide.
And the other...
Well they just can't handle the magic...
They shut us down,
Kick us out,
And then we wither...
We think we are alone,
But in the end... I don't need your looking glass,
Because I have a little bit of...
Magic

So the past few days,

I wondered,

And searched…

Who am I?

What do I embody?

And I’ve been told before…

That I’m as sweet as honey.

That’s the thing though,

I don’t want to be honey,

I’ld rather be a cup of coffee,

A little sugar,

Alot of milk..

Sweet. Warm. Earthy.

I want to be a sunflower.

I want to shine and make people smile…

But still wilt…

You have to wilt…

You have to admit defeat.

You can’t just forget everything…

When you forget, it crashes into you…

Like today…

I was driving,

Windows down, music up, no cares…

But I noticed the warmth on my hand,

And it reminded me of all of your hands,

All of them.

How I won’t see some of them again,

How some still torment me,

And how some I can’t trust to touch me…

All the memories,

All the “maybes”

Hit like a bullet,

And that’s why we wilt…

Creating a new us…

New me.