Everything I Want to Say

How do you feel?

You wish for me to explain my feelings? Then here I go. Here I stand exposing the rawest parts of my heart, exposing the white glue lathered over my shaky, nearly broken, bones. Here I am. The most real version of me.

I am not perfect, I am human. I am not intelligent, I am lucky. I am not beautiful, I'm just enough to be noticed.

I live in shadows. Big ones that I can never fill. I should be afraid. I am not. I am not afraid, I am completely and horribly petrified. One trip and I'm suddenly the mistake I've always been. One slip and I'm no longer the creation you wish for. So I remain in the same painful position. Embracing a person who is not me. Wearing some facade that pleases your image of me.

But why should what you think matter? Shouldn't I have enough self-love and self-knowledge to be unshaped by the words you throw at me in the form of deadly cinderblocks? Shouldn't I be strong like you? Why is this expected out of me?

There is this crippling kind of fear creeping up the back of my neck lowly whispering in my ear: "you're nothing." But is it really fear if I can see its face? As clear as day, in perfect sight. This is not the face of fear. For I know fears face, it is nearly identical to mine but so deformed by the growing valued opinions of others. This face is one of familiarization. The voice starts to raise. Growing louder and louder. More and more hypocritical. Less and less loving.

You were supposed to be the man who guided me. Instead, I can willingly bestow upon you the title of heartbreaker. Just as you crowned me with this prickly thorn band of disappointment. Wear it proudly, I remember you saying.

Now, with the most darkest of thoughts and most sore of heart I can say, I am more than not perfect. I am a liar. I have lied to him, I have lied to you, I have lied to myself.

No, I do not love you. If anything I despise the very being you are. Satan humanized. I despise you for the hurt you have burdened me with. I despise you for the scars and open wounds you left in my once glowingly beautiful heart. I despise the creature you have left me to be while becoming another. I despise all that you did to me.

But I do not only hate you. There is another just as equal to blame. She is, out of all, unknowing. She blinks quickly and speaks soft sweet nothings to no one but herself. She whispers in her own ear when others do not. Maybe it is her tongue that should be ripped from her mouth. How could one be a liar if they have not a tongue to speak?

Maybe I could learn to live this girl. Maybe she could be my savior as well as my downfall. But her self-value is little. Her heart is hurt. But in everything; beauty can come from chaos, life can come from death, new can come from old—and a flower can blossom where there was once nothing.

So here I plant the seed of life. I give you water of vitality and sun of necessity. Grow into something beautiful. Someone new.