when i write about other people
frantically scribbling words on a page
to express love
or hate
or something at all

why can't i write the same way for myself
the intense verses and elaborate wording
all used to express a feeling that no combination of words will
ever explain

perhaps if i stare in the mirror long enough
my body will begin to feel like my own,
my face won't distort to a disfigured mess
i'll learn to love my long golden hair
my eyes that look like the earth from outer space
the soft jawline i've always hated
asymmetry embodied

maybe then i'll realize that even scribbles are beautiful too.

I have been in such a place of peace and pure happiness the past few months, but now I can’t tell because maybe I’m moving too quickly or if it’s truly just not the right time.
I’m beginning to question everything and I wonder if My desire to have someone to love me takes over the idea that possibly the ones I chose to love are not ready to love me the way I’m ready to love them.
I’m afraid that if I wait, I will still get my heart broken, I’m afraid that walking away will also be a blow to my heart, the fact that risks can involve being uncomfortable altogether but is the risk really worth the level of uncomfortable this may bring.

today is the day i decide to love me,
instead of you.
how, i’m not quite sure. although
i’m sure that i want to.

Finally I am awake,
No more passings-by.
Finally I remember,
No more faded shapes.
Finally I can feel,
No more shallow blinks.
Finally I am here,
No more losing grips.
There is no closure to these lines,
Today it started, the existence of mine.

When you ask:
Who am I looking for
in a companion?
Most people say
they want love.
Or care.
Or comfort.
I want someone
who thinks me clever.
Who gets my jokes.
Who feels the romantic word
like a caress,
phrasing, like a gentle kiss.
Who deems me special
like I've always wanted to be.
Because I need me to see
that I love me,
just not unconditionally.

One can never truly die
Until the great one
Sings his song
We must keep pushing
Moving
Growing
For there are challenges
Trials and Disparity
Lurking around each corner
We must continue to fight
Each day we must become anew
Touched by the sun’s ever cruel
Gaze

Sitting here waiting.
For what?
For a sign or a chance or an invitation.
I don’t really know.
But maybe it’s time for me
To become a sign or a chance or an invitation.

To stop waiting for the world to love me,
And instead learn to love myself