I've been learning how to speak. The gears in my throats shut down for quite a while, there, but I find that some time alone has picked away at the rust. I can say things I want to say again.
I've wanted to say, for a while now, that life is beautiful. I've wanted to say that it isn't that bad after all, and that it really does get better. I've wanted to say that you can survive without walking down every road, and leaving some for others to discover isn't such a bad thing as you thought.
I've wanted to say that being more than one person is okay if you give everyone a turn.
I've wanted to say silly things, too. I love butterflies. The colour gold is beautiful, and so is broken glass. I really, really don't like bacon. I've always wanted a friend named Jasmine so that I can call her Jazzy. I have a friend named Jasmine now, and I enjoy every minute of calling her so.
I want to name my next cat noodle. Speaking of names, Lucifer is a beautiful name no matter what you tell me.
I love the smell of rain. I wish I had blue eyes. I think shy, dorky boys are adorable and I want to be friends with every weeaboo girl I meet. I want to be a lawyer when I'm older, but I like drawing and writing just as much. I hate my dad a LOT. He's abusive and I never had the nerve to say it. I've always wished there was a breed of cat called Moongolds, and my favourite thing about life is seeing others change around me with time.
I find that all these years, my throat could only voice negativity. All of the memories I have are of traumatic experiences, and it leaves me wondering whether or not traumatic experiences were all that happened in my life, or if I simply only saw the worst parts of the experiences I had.
My life is still hell, but seeing my ability to change others' lives for the better has made me question as to whether I should dabble into changing my own.
Of course, there's not much a thirteen-year-old can do to separate herself from one of her own parents, and that seems like the best first step to fixing 99% of my problems.
Running away from home is still an option..?
Anyways, it's been a while.
Good to see you again, little white box of mine.
