My life is a struggle between my need for acceptance, my fear of rejection, and a desire to not care at all.
Ensnared in unfamiliar skin, coerced in obligatory patterns, anxiety filling every moment. The slightest of shifts are perceived while the unmitigated image is obscured. I often wonder how it is that this state came into being, when really I was the only one in control. The choices we make all transpire, although the timeline may be unknown. Everything comes back, always. And that is my subsisting fear.
They don’t tell you in school
how experience can teach you to heal
in all the wrong ways.
I sabotage myself so well,
bolt myself in
before others can open the doors.
My words are clumsy and awkward.
People regard me like a car accident;
they can’t look away
from something so tragic.
Sometimes I forget how to be human.
I hope on those days,
you’d be willing to wait for me
Sometimes being a friend means mastering the art of timing. There is a time for silence. A time to let go and allow people to hurl themselves into their own destiny. And a time to prepare to pick up the pieces when it’s all over.
I’m not reclusive at all. Just private.
Sticks and stones may break our bones, but words will break our hearts
When I get lonely these days, I think: So BE lonely. Learn your way around loneliness. Make a map of it. Sit with it, for once in your life. Welcome to the human experience. But never again use another person’s body or emotions as a scratching post for your own unfulfilled yearnings.
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