a beautiful dream

i used to think i could fly

I find myself in my head every time I am alone.

Like the only way to fill the void is to enter it;

the only way out is through.

I think it's because emptiness is unbearable.

And any thought or dream, bad or good, 

is better than the slow moments of nothing that life

so casually offers.

The girl I am now is but a fraction of all that she could be.

She could be a lover, and a fighter,

less of an over-thinker or a people pleaser,

body confident and unashamed,

talented, loud, strong.

She offers me comfort,

says all the things I failed to say in the moment,

does the things I was too scared to do.

She offers me hope for the future,

but she also makes me want a time long gone.

That simple life where living in my head was fun

and not an escape. When sleep came easily

and each day was filled with promises that people actually kept.

When the sun was everywhere, and the lights were never dimmed

behind my eyes when I looked in the mirror.

When laughter was genuine and jokes weren't cruel.

I never used to doubt my beauty. Or my strength.

I used to think I could fly.