Upper right corner
                                                                         Name scripted through steady paced motion
Blue development keeping her hand on track
Pulse line flat, steady paced motion
To articulate is to pull from within, to reach down and put names on your demons
Hello my name is "tired and weak"
Hello my name is "he only calls when he drinks"
Hello my name is "I smoke a habit my finances can't keep afloat"
Hello my name is "give me your aproval, but dont look for too long, it scares me"
Hello my name is "Sunday afternoon listening"
                                                                      Name scripted through steady paced motion
To articulate is to recognize, to acknowledge the closet door shut with bitten lip smile
Pulse line flat, steady paced motion

Late spring when the sparrows sang again
Ants make invisible trails across my legs, normally I would mind but they're moving steadily along their way.
Wind blowing my hair in every direction
Showing me grey I haven't really noticed before
My age spots, proof that youth is fading outwards.
Freshly brewed coffee from the Tim Hortons down the street.
A vice if you will
Something that often brings me comfort but can amp my anxiety into overdrive.
I drink the coffee anyways.
Strong aroma of freshly cut grass, the first cut of the season.
Lilac bushes with a hint of the unmistakable scent of fresh air.
Everything has sprung alive, which I am quite thankful for.
Yet I feel somber.
So many thoughts flow through my mind in a day, an abundance of questions and unanswered emotions.
Through age and maturity has taught me that I no longer wish to seek the aproval of strangers for I need not impress anyone but myself.
Yet I had hoped that growth and forgiving others had meant I too along the way would be forgiven for the actions of my former, younger self.
Sitting here opening my heart to the universe,  continuing to be the best I can be and to grow.
Looking inward, and attempt to seek out the approval I didn't have when I was a child.
I am nothing but myself.

Right in the glimpse of summer in a excessively hot January, a sister was born.
4 years and a couple weeks early a bother was born.
They were bred into the complications of non-nobility, middle class income and the worst of all, unconditional love from the breders.

She was a mess but tried to be perfect. She tried to accomplish every goal and set herself standards that were impossible to achieve, but she tride. And failed. And wanted to die. But dying was failing.

He was a mess and wanted everyone to know. He'll punch a whole trough his door, call everyone names, sell ilegal substances and then try to fix it by saying he was sad and tried to justify everything. No one ever knew what his true intentions were, but she knew there was something hidden. Something he was not telling.

Their mom was perfect. She truly was and everything they ever wanted was to make her happy but them both seemed to fail. Miserably. But she loved them both more than words could yell into an ocean of failures.

But it was a curse. A curse for the sister that seeked perfection, aproval and a love that could be measure or worth of the effort she made. But everything she got was the same unconditional love, split in half. Not a tiny bit more.

And that was her curse. She had to live being disappointed at herself because she wanted to know why no one understood why she deserved more. Why couldn't she get more love than him? Why should they be equals when she's done better, brighter, smarter, accurate things that him?

She wanted to **** him. And maybe she should.