You can be hurt, but not feel pain.
You can be scared even though you seem safe. You can feel trapped even when you're alone because everyone processes their own experiences and emotions differently.
It's all valid.

It seems like everywhere you look these days, you see something
that makes you want to close your heart,
your ears, your eyes.
Though the temptation gets stronger,
you keep agreeing to try one more time.
And for that, I just want to say thank you.

As time keeps going,
my mind will start slowing down.
I won't remember when we met.
I won't remember how.
But there is one thing I can promise right now. I'm not afraid of losing those memories because I'll never have to wonder
why you came into my life.
Whether it's because you saved me,
you hurt me, you taught me a lesson,
or you became my best friend,
you made me who I am.
And that's all I need to remember.

Once upon a time, I willed myself to dream
that you'd care if I wore my heart on my sleeve. Ever since, I have.
But not for you.
I do it for me.

The alphabet poem (each word starts with the next letter of the alphabet). It was pretty strong but came unhinged at the end.

Angels became calming distractions everywhere. For generations, Hell's inspired jarring, knowledgeable lectures manufacturing numerous open panels questioning rebirth. Stand tall, understand? Values will xray your zen. (Found a definition stating zen originated from a sanskrit word for thoughts/mindfulness, so it's a stretch but technically makes sense).

I've never been able to see tomorrow
before it comes.
And yet, somehow, every time I look at you,
it almost seems like I can see forever.
Forever scares me though,
for I know it's not real.
In the end, I choose to embrace it.
Because everyone has blindspots.

My 500th poem, on my 9 year anniversary of writing. Perception of time.

It seems like nothing can humble you
faster than time. It affects everyone,
regardless of race, gender, or age.
And yet, it somehow feels personal
when bad things happen
depending on what stage of life we're in.
But what if it isn't time that changes us.
What if it's our perception of time
that changes us? When we're young,
time seems to move so slow.
But the older you get, all time sees to do
is go, go, go. What if we never lose
or run out of time.
What if it's the stress of living that's committing the crime of breaking us down.