AnonymousMember10007
some things are easier to write than they are to say.
so i write.
i write about him.
about myself.
about the things i want, the things i lose, the things i pretend don't hurt.
i write about love when it feels beautiful.
about love when it feels ugly.
about wanting someone so badly it scares me.
about anger that doesn't know where to go.
about the things i say, the things i don't, and everything that lives somewhere in between.
some poems are love letters.
some are confessions.
some are apologies.
some are resentment.
some are anger i don't know where else to put.
and some are just me trying to understand why loving someone can feel so much like losing myself.
there are things in here i never say out loud.
things i don't know how to explain without sounding crazy, dramatic, too emotional, too much.
so they end up here instead.
this isn't a story told after everything is over.
it's me, in the middle of it.
while it's happening.
while I'm feeling it.
while I'm still trying to figure out what the fuck any of it means.
unfiltered.
unfinished.
still becoming.
so if you're into that
bullshit ironic fairytale everyone's read before,
go ahead and find something else.
this one is real.
this one is unquestionably raw.
and most importantly
unapologetically me.