exhale

going back

i'm going back.

i'm tired of trying to think my words through. i'm tired of trying to make them seem more profound than they actually are. all of these words are just the rambles of a child.

my age does not define me. i should be preparing to be on my own but i'm still just a little girl. i'm a baby being thrown into the deep end in hopes of magically learning to swim.

i wasn't made for this.

i wasn't made for poems or whatever you choose to call these collections of words. i was made to stutter and fall over my words. i was made to be messy.

i'm going back.

i'm going back to being the scared little girl i was. i'm going back to screaming into the sky and hoping someone would hear me. i'm going back to where i was before. i'm going to a place where my words don't have to be carefully constructed. i want to vent in a way that doesn't have to sound pretty.

i don't want to build palaces out of paragraphs. i want to know everything down and revel in the rubble.

i'm going back.