Numb.

Not quite sure how to comprehend

anything coherent.

I’ve been told I’m strong

but inside I’m crumbling.

Let me tell you a secret…

I find comfort in my own skin.

Hugging myself, hands on

waist,

hips,

under my shirt.

Smooth,

safe

not yet destroyed.

I’m not destroyed

just a little

unstable.

Today was the first day

in a long process.

My mental health is

this devil on my shoulder

becoming a person.

Becoming a human.

Becoming the voice I want to be quiet.

I’m lonely.

More so now than ever.

Mum says to

bake

do gardening

make dinner

these are all things she wants me to do.

Not what I need to do.

Anxiety.

That’s what he said.

The word looks so much less…

scary

just written there

for all to see.

Work on myself they say

on the inside.

How do you even –

Where do you even start with that?

I’ve been everyone’s second guess

or choice

or thought

for so long…

I think of myself like that now as well.

So, next time

you think about screwing with

my emotions

or feelings

or thoughts

please don’t.

Maybe that will save both of us.

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Tonight//Rambles.

smile

I don’t want to write about you tonight.

I want to write about

how there’s a smile stretching out

in my palms

in my heart

in my lips.

I want to write about

how good times are memories in new places

with people who put that dusty laugh

back into me.

How good I feel right now

at almost 1am

when I still have a few hundred words to go

but then I’m all done.

I want to write about

how surreal my life has become

since you decided to leave.

Right now,

I’m in the kitchen

wearing a dress you’ve never seen.

It’s a little low-cut

which you know I hated

but it’s comfortable.

And lately I’m all about comfortable.

My comfortable.

My hair is loose and wavy and I like it.

I want to write about

how warm the sunshine feels on this skin

like particles of me want to come and shine again.

My safety net – it’s not you anymore.

I’m my own damn safety net.

I tuck myself in at night with

no sleep well texts

and wake up

with just the same silence.

I’m okay with that.

Rather, I enjoy not

having to talk to you.

Most days.

I want to write about

how good pizza tastes

when people actually share it with me.

I don’t even like it all that much

just relish in the fact,

I can have some.

I want to write about

how I thought I needed you.

I didn’t.

I don’t.

I just need me

to be me.

The girl with the weird name.

I hope to be strong

and live up to the namesake I was given.

Come at me aliens,

I’ll fight.