I am not the opinion of others. I am not empty bottles of pills. I am not the plans I cancelled or my drunken voicemails. I am not the stereotype or labels people hold me to. I am not my scars or the bruises on my skin, dark blue. I am not the pieces of paper I tore in madness. I am not my mental illness; my anxiety or sadness. I am not my unreturned text messages. I am not the tablecloths I destroyed, torn at all the edges. I am not the tests I failed. I am not the letters I never mailed. I am not my moments of weakness. I am not my darkest secrets. I am not my messy room. I am not what people assume. I am whoever I say I am, nothing less and nothing more. I am not something to be ashamed of, I am someone to adore.
YOU ARE READING
No Longer The Moon: A collection of writings from the month of October
Non-ficțiuneSome days I write because I have to, and I have had many of those days lately. These a collection of thoughts, writings, and poems that I have thus have and will add to.
