I think of the girl I was just a few years ago
A happy girl
She never felt like something was missing from her
She never saw in others what she lacked
Every experience was exciting because it was new and it was thrilling
What happened to her
Now every time I see myself I see cracks and I see pieces
I feel like I am floating above myself watching myself move through motions
I look at others only to see my lack
I cling onto the wisps of memory of innocence and think about when I was greener
Nostalgia

if i was your type
would i be smaller than you in stature
the force of my words softer,
my thoughts easier to live under?
if i was your type
would i be a light read?
the picture painted black and white,
while my greys keep growing with age.
if i was your type
the stress of a minimum reaction
feels more natural than breathing,
the double texts reciprocal.
if i was your type
would you want me then,
in the same ways that i want,
for only the sake of company?

I love the sea
The consistency in her waves
Lapping at the shore
Gently
Ragingly
Lazily
Whichever way she chooses to for that day
The inviting nature of her ability to reflect light in a blurry haze
The reverence she doesn’t demand but nonetheless receives from environmentally entitled humans who are at her mercy when they decide to tread in her waters
I love the sea
So why do I recoil so viscerally at her pungent smell of salt and seaweed today
I’ve smelt it before
Even was comforted by it at times
But now
It’s too much for me
I must say goodbye early today
And turn away

Do you think that if you spend enough time at the beach
You would be able to smell the ocean
In the seams of your clothes and pockets of your jacket
Do you think it can linger and permeate
Like cigarettes and bitter goodbyes