It’s Easy To Say

I wish I lit up the rooms I walked into,

I wish I lit up the rooms I walked into, but instead it feels as if I walk with a great cloud daunting over me. And every room instead fills with water, people feeling the weight of the cold on their ankles, feeling the crisp rain pouring on their skin, hair wet, & palms sweat with nerves. So they leave, because why stay near someone who makes a room so somber?

I have a soft voice, softer than petals falling in the wind. A voice that gets even dimmer when I feel like my last spark has been washed out by the rain, and silence reins in. I have a laugh that often gets called undesirable and unattractive. So I laugh quietly under my breath. I have big black eyes that stay puffy from the salty tears that hung them open the night prior. I have soft freckles under eye bags that are often forgotten, brown eyes and brown hair that are easily mistaken for any other softly green under-toned tanned girl. I have hair long enough to cover elbows that often get called terrifying by outsiders. I have bones that show through the seams of my dresses. I have wrists that often get measured by the fingertips of strangers.

I wish my voice was like thunder, striking a room like lightning. Unforgettable, strong, and beautiful. I wish my laugh was sweet like the summer, honest, acidic, tasteful, addicting and loud. I wish I had the courage to repeat myself when I haven’t been heard instead of shutting down. I wish I wouldn’t get mistaken for any other girl. I wish my eyes weren’t burnt from all the salt that they’ve cried. I wish my arms weren’t so tiny. I wish I stopped comparing myself to everyone.

But overall. I wish I was kinder to myself, and then maybe— just maybe, I’d be able to light up the room in which I’m the only one in it.

I’m happy for you

You stop caring and I’m happy for you. I’m not someone worth thinking about anymore really.

I hold a lot of baggage and that’s something you don’t need right now. Or ever.

So I’ll be happy for you because I think being away from me is the best that life will give you.

and I’m a lot, I know. And I’m sorry.

I cry so much

I cry so much that I’m tired of seeing myself in the mirror. Eyes swollen and chest swelling with gasps of air.

I’m not sure how I’ve gotten this far yet regressed back so much to the point I’ve lost who I am.

I’ve failed myself, and especially my younger self.

So what’s the point in crying? I’m over that too.

Over myself & every little thing I fought for.

he loves you more than you know

i can tell, and maybe I shouldn't spell it out. speak what's so blatant. it's true honestly— this dance that could gravitate towards the middle of any ballroom. the eyes that never leave one another, the arms that stay constantly intertwined. and i hate that i was so blind, i hate myself for being so naively blind. and i hate that i let myself think i could even get between that. i'm not special. i'm not the person you call when you fall. it's him, and it will always be him. and i'll never be the man you need me to be. do you know he loves you more than you know? i saw him kiss you on a tuesday afternoon, and i knew, i just knew— what you didn't want to speak into existence. unfortunately— i'm gentle, soft, quiet, and i will never be half of what he is. so i'll stop here, i'll stop being strung along by you. i love you, but maybe, never as much as him.

I’ve gotten used to being treated this way

I’ve gotten used to being ignored, of having my hellos be greeted with rolled eyes.

I’ve gotten used to my palms being stained with ink from letters I stayed up writing until dawn, waiting by the mailbox just to never get any letters written back.

I’ve gotten used to being as nice as I can be, and getting called unauthentic.

I’ve gotten used to you ignoring me as we pass through the hallway, as I sat alone on graduation day holding my own hand because no one wanted to hold mine.

I’ve gotten used to always being the one who messages first, and waiting for a reply until a new moon passes us by.

But maybe it’s time I get used to loving myself enough, to not make myself endure all of this. When will it be my turn to grow? To be apart from your shadow? Maybe it’s time to let go.

Depression makes me feel like a dull knife, you know you can still use it but it’s still dull even after it’s sharpened. Try as much as you can, use as much force as you need but the knife will always be, dull. Maybe you’re too lazy to sharpen it thoroughly, maybe you’re too attached to let it go. So it sits there. In your drawer beside the newly sharpened knives, unused, useless, and there in memoriam.

I believe in you! And unicorns, but mostly you! Just wanted to send you a smile today :)

Thank you lovely!

I’m sorry

I’m sorry you think about wanting to d!e everyday. I’m sorry that life has been so hard that to you, that’s the only answer.

I’m sorry that to me, that’s the only answer through this pain is eternal slumber. And I understand, I don’t see an answer out either.

i wait

i wait by the mailbox everyday, hoping, wishing, that maybe a letter will show up. a letter professing their love back to me, their appreciation of my existence. maybe, just maybe, it's all in my head. how i'm not meant to be here. how i'm not worthy enough of being loved. of how their blank stares are just words of judgement of how i'm so much better off without them. and yeah, maybe theyre right. i am better off without them. but somehow i just can't let go. maybe, i'm used to the thorns on the stem of the flowers they give me. the dead, burnt, crisp, flowers.

I walk underneath your shadow

no matter where I walk it's under your shadow. right beneath yours, intertwined. I don't know whether to be grateful or not. whether or not it's something I need. but on days where I need your shadow to keep me away from the sun, you walk a little farther, never there when I need it most. these days it seems that through distance, as you walk each step a little faster and farther, I can no longer feel your warmth. and your shadow has been making me feel colder. so maybe it's time to just stop moving and let your shadow walk alone. because I think I'm ready for this shadow to finally be my own.