I feel like a stranger in my own home.
An outsider.
The lodger that has outstayed their welcome.
When are these feelings going to fade?
As though the cycle of my youth has started again.
Pressure.
Pressure to get a proper job.
Pressure to find someone to settle down with.
Pressure to be someone I don’t want to be.
Pressure to live up to the same standards as everyone else.
Pressure to be independent. Not just independent in the sense as we know it but in the financial sense.
Pressure to be thin.
Pressure to be as thin as my mum.
How do I break away from those projections of frustration, of disappointment, of self-loathing?

I miss being a child
full of laughter and wild
without worries and lies

Today I thought about
writing a poem explaining
my greatest fear

of how...
when you’re madly in love
there is always a gnawing thought
that you may one day wake up
to his bags packed
saying he has clarity
that you are not enough

then I realized
any woman who has ever loved
would already understand.

he holds the galaxies in his eyes
my heart in his hands
and fragments of my soul in his

the galaxies are returned when he dreams
his hands tremble at the weight of my worries
and our souls rejuvenate upon intertwining

the number of pillows in my bed
is the number of worries in my head
i have also a pillow
that never leaves my bed
tucked beside my heart
reserved for you

so i'm patiently waiting
for a single notification
a sign of a chance
that it's not over yet
i can't divert my glance
i'm afraid that i'll lose this bet
it's getting to my head
and i know i might be wrong
but one misstep and then i'm gone
maybe my mistake was at the start
all the million other parts
of the puzzle i need to solve
god i feel like i'll dissolve
it's confusing and exciting
finally i'm struck by lightning