I am not tethered Not yet Not ever I exist exclusively outside your gaze I belong to myself now You will not keep me here, In fear and in folly And I, I will not stay Though I am weary of what awaits me No! Let me rise, now The strength of my atonement and courage Will protect me As I wonder into a page without your expectations of failure. Yes! I choose to be free.
I have chosen sobriety for nearly six weeks. This is an ode to myself and everything I am becoming.
It’s that time again. It’s 2am again. It’s time to look to the right side of my bed and feel sad. It’s time to wonder why it’s still empty. It’s time for me to make a list of why it is empty. It’s time for me to be ******* myself. It’s time for me to wonder where I went wrong. It’s time for me to make a list of all my mistakes. It’s time to feel sorry for myself. It’s time for me to break my own heart. Again. It’s time for me to play over what men have said to me in the past. It’s time for my old tinder messages to haunt me. “Unless I can eat that *** and ***** from the back before marriage Christian girls aren’t as fun.” “Would you be interested in a nice thick 8 inch ****?” “I’m looking for a more physically intimate relationship.” It’s time for me to remind myself the reason why my bed is empty. Men want the one thing that I can’t give them, And without my body I am nothing to them. All I am is what’s between my legs and what’s under my shirt. And with my legs crossed and my top on, what could I possibly offer them? It’s time for me remember that while my choice maybe the right choice, It’s also the lonely choice. It’s time for me to remember that even though it feels like it’s my fault, It’s not. It’s time for me to daydream until I fall asleep. Again.
You say you know who I am. But you don't. You only know the part of me that I show to you. You only know the girl That loves music more than the ordinary person, That talks to herself, That doodles flowers on her arms during class, That buries her face in a book, That still has all her music downloaded on an Mp3 player, That sings Taylor Swift songs into her hairbrush. You don't know the girl That stays up until 2am sobbing into her pillow, That feels like she's never enough, That masks her depression behind fakes smiles and laughter, That keeps her feelings hidden away, until they blow up and she cries over a broken shoelace, That she hopes for the next day to be better than the previous day. You say you know who I am. At least you think you do. I'm sorry. But you don't.
Everyone thinks that they know who I am but it is only me that know who I am.
This is all turning real And our past is catching up to us The talks we had at 12 AM Are the talks we have at 2 PM Not quite the strangers to reality That we were so long ago I am not sure if I can stand this When all our worst-case scenarios Are what we wake up to each day