there is a war inside me,
begging for your condemnation,
begging for your ruthless sensation.
a war inside me,
that feeds on anticipation,
an invitation for your belittling generalizations,
or an explanation for my creation,
but no please, stay inside your own nation.
this is my civil war,
though civil is not the word i would use to describe
the words echoed in my mind
about my soul, my love, my kind.
i do not hear pride anymore.
my sense of worth escaped when you disregarded to close the door.
running free like the child i once felt inside my numb bones.
i own
nothing
but the cruel, few centimeters inside my skull.
and even those have been invaded by this cold.
i long for daybreak like hades longing for the return of his soul
but i feel no remorse
for the steady course
by which i have found my way
you say,
sit down be calm and wait for your prince,
but i see no prince
i wait only for the queen inside of me to awaken and find
the dragon that for three years has held captive my mind
is recoiling into the skin that it crawled out of.
this queen has not been praying for a handsome mate on a handsome steed
only the virtues and weapons that she may need
she is off
away
to find a happily ever anything
and perchance on the way she shall meet her "king."
or a crown.
or both.

Am I enough?
Well
It sure doesn’t seem like it
I grew up as the golden child
The gifted one
The multi-talented prodigy
Acting
Reading
Singing
Excellence across the board
I pushed and pressured myself to be the best
It was easy to be on top
I was enough
Insecurities started getting the best of me
A “B” was menacing
A “C” killed me
I was no longer the brightest
No longer the best
Comparison brought me down hard
My higher-than-average SAT score upset me
Why?
Someone else was better
I wasn’t the best
My anxiety got the best of me
I imagined my family’s disappointment
In my lack of straight A’s
In my lack of gifted-ness
“Try harder”
“Be better”
No one was telling me that
Except myself
Now
I feel more average than ever
The mediocrity suffocates me
No real extracurriculars
Only three classes
The self-loathing sets in
I don’t feel proud
The praise for straight A’s
In three
****
Classes
It feels like mockery to me
Though deep down
I know I have something to be proud of
I could have dropped out
When my body failed me
But I didn’t
I could have given up on life entirely
But I didn’t
Maybe I’m not the classic Gifted Child anymore
Maybe I don’t sweep the awards at the school ceremony
But that’s alright
I am enough
Even if I DID drop out
Even if I DID give up
I would still be enough
Because I was put here for a purpose
My family and friends won’t leave my side
Even if I failed every test this year
I am enough

There’s an old friend that calls to me
their hands are shoved into pockets
dark half-circles have settled on their face
and their shoes are worn
They want a place to crash again

This traveling stain has gone by many names
but what I used to call them
the pit in my stomach
always seemed more descriptive
than simply calling them self loathing.

They seem weak now
but under dirtied clothes is hard shell
shell, like a seed that once planted it roots in me
and burrowed till they had climbed my throat
and coated my insides in black gooey hate

they left a sticky residue,
the kind that resists being scrubbed off raw fingertips
and stuck on me post-it notes of resentful thoughts
reminding me that even though they’re gone now
they were once there.

So I started writing my own notes
stickers that filled my mind
then my neck, and chest, and finally
my gut.
Little words that accumulated till I opened my mouth and spewed them forward
I repeated them, until I believed them.

One keeps cropping up,
a small slip of syllables that teaches me to act,
regardless of doubt
I take it out of my leather jacket now,
and pass it on to this old friend
reading it out loud as I do,
and saying, clear and fearless,
“No point but the one I choose to make.”

Forgive me when I say I love you. I know that pulling on the strings of your heart doesn't make things any better.

Forgive me when I say I need you. You are the air I breathe, the water running through my veins, the food that nourishes my soul. There is no other way that I can live.

Forgive me when I say I am thinking about you. Your eyes are what keep me up at night, your voice sings songs in my head and why should I ever stop playing back the record.

Forgive me for what I am. All alone I see the cage I have made, closing the door shut so that I can't hurt you again.

Forgive me for I am afraid. One day I will cease to exist carrying my briefcase full of regrets and lies. I am scared to be alone.

Forgive me for hoping. I don't deserve the care you cradle me with. I fight for you but they are only wishes that can only be granted if you so choose to accept them.

Forgive me because as time passes there is a possibility that you will leave me behind in the sands of time. Will I be a long lost particle never to be remembered? is it too late to say that I want you to be mine?

Forgive me for portraying my thoughts its not like they will ever matter...