If I weren’t so afraid of my own self, I’d probably write a lot more. And a lot more frequently. What is so scary? Why is it so hard to be honest with ourselves? To write our true feelings? To discuss the negative? To accept that we aren’t always love and smiles? What a shame, what a waste. The amount of times I backspace while I write is incredible. Tempted to write only what sounds sweet. Hiding the ugly thoughts, the crazy, because people couldn’t possibly handle it. There you go again; worried about others. What about you? Your sanity? The clarity you so desperately need. Why is it so hard then, to pour out? When you know you want to, when you NEED to. When every word, every sentence, every comma, every period, is cleansing. Why avoid what you love? Why refrain from this? Why do you starve yourself like this? So you ignore it. Maybe it’ll go away. But the thought is there. It’s always there. 


And maybe it doesn’t make sense, looking from the outside in. But it never fails me. I’ll always come back to you. 


How could I have not fallen in love with you? When your very presence brings me a sense of calm, of peace. When your lips taste of sugar. When your hands bring security. When your eyes hold the truth. Your hugs uphold me, each one piecing me back together. Slowly and surely. Almost makes me wonder if I were ever broken to begin with. I want you in every sense of the word. I want you early in the mornings and late at nights. Between every thought. What more can I do for you, my love? No doubt in this mind of mine. No other desire, no other wants. No questions to be asked. 

You are home. You are mine. 

And I’m forever yours. 


Trying my best not to allow any irrational thoughts to surface. Trying to feel less crazy. Learning to let people who love me, love me.  I’d like to free my mind from all the negativity going on, I don’t want to be a prisoner of my own memory. I’d like to know a life where the mind isn’t in a constant battle between what if’s or but’s or why’s. I’ve come to the realization that I’ve allowed the past to linger on longer than it should. I’ve allowed the past to live in the present and it’s been confusing. Chasing after silence, what is it like? What is it like not to be caged by your thoughts? By worry? By guilt? By insecurities? Learning to reject my own self punishment, learning to love myself, to forgive myself… learning to believe that I am good enough, that I am lovely. Lessening the self doubt, the shame, the craving of everyone else’s approval. Haunted by the past, a ghost in the present, dead to the future.. the heart desires to live, to love, to laugh. To breathe. To heal. 

Let it. Allow it. Open it. 

Silence it. The loudness of my inner being are no longer welcomed.

Speak it into existence, there is hope. You are love. 

And you are worthy of all good things. 


Heaven sent. 

A combination of everything beautiful. 

Non disruptive to my peace. 

A giver of all good things. 

Good to my soul, good for my heart. 

A reminder that prayers work. 


Tender kisses, hugs that heal. 

Consumer of my thoughts. 

Thief of my imagination.

Patience and forgiveness. 

Foundation to a real future. 

A chance at real love. 

The purpose behind every smile.

A piece of sanity.




You’re a reminder of my vulnerability. 

So I avoid thinking about you, about us. Thinking about us means it was real. Pretending that you never existed is easier than accepting who I became.

And maybe that’s selfish; avoiding what I once thought as forever to spare my feelings. Feelings that have decided to emerge and haunt me. 

Remembering you is allowing darkness come into light where I don’t want it to be shown. It means digging up faults I’ve purposely buried in hopes that I would forget.

But I haven’t and I won’t. 

And so I’m left with no choice but to remember. Forced to feel the unhappiness that was felt back then. 

The hard part is convincing myself that I am a good person. Am I? 

Remembering you causes me to cringe. The shame pulls me back in, I push the thoughts back out. 

Remembering you steals away the ability to move forward. Stuck in time, stuck in the past. 

Worst of all, remembering you proves I’m unworthy of any love. 


It must get tiring to live that way. Always questioning if what is given to you will be taken away. Accustomed to broken promises and fake apologies. Always on stand by, keeping a close watch. Quietly choosing what to accept; what to reject before it rejects you. Because who better than yourself to decide what you are worthy of. Am I worthy of your loving? Secretly hoping that someone will tear through. But how? When you’re so good at keeping them out. Secrets weighing down your heart, untold stories replaying in your head. And it’s toxic, but you do it anyways. Self punishment you say. So you limit yourself to how much happiness you feel, because you think it’s fair. God forbid you take it all in just to have it taken away. You know better than that, this is the price to pay. 

I won’t let myself forget. 

Self Destructive

Of all the things you could think about, and that’s what you choose? Why do you do this to yourself? Constantly searching for something that makes you hurt. Is it because you think you deserve it? Have we not made peace with the past? When will this pattern be broken? When will you realize that today matters. Not yesterday. And certainly not tomorrow. Is it possible that you have not forgiven yourself? You repeat it time after time, “you are not your past, you are not your mistakes” yet again, once more, it returns to torment you. You allow it to torment you. Because deep down you know, that this is what you deserve. Because deep down you believe this is what you should put yourself through. You SHOULD hurt, and so you do. When is it going to be enough? Whose to say you’ve not already paid your debt? When will you stop? 

When will you quit this self destructive play?