Sensitivity.
The word has such meaning behind it.
You can weave a beautifully tragic tale.
My whole life,
I thought I was a horrible person.
Hurting those around me,
Tearing myself apart.
I always looked at the glass half empty
In that sense.
Never realizing what a gift it truly is.
Can anyone else say they feel everything
With their heart and soul?
Can anyone else be moved by the
Simplest of gestures?
Can anyone write with the same passion and devotion
That a sensitive person can?
The answer is no.
It's time to stop fixing what makes me so unique,
What makes me, me.
It's time to stop hiding this beautifully tragic part
Of myself.
It's time to be me.
