I wonder at the girl I used to be. How brave she was and yet so naive.

The intricate way in which we change like smooth seamless waves. You don’t notice it until it’s already done.

How do I carry on with all these feelings inside me?

Held and Free

There is a sacred place where steady trees cover graceful hills and unforgiving mountains. It is easy to be breathless and in awe.

It is hard to compromise where we do not belong.

This is a different kind of loneliness, even though I’ve felt it all my life. Just adjacent to connection. Watching others discover love, wishing you knew if it were true.

I feel all alone in friendly crowded rooms. No one seeks me out for solace, and no one stays to keep me warm. Some barely catch my eye and then pretend they never saw.

I want a best friend, a partner in crime. Who knows what I’m thinking before I say it. Who sees the small hesitation before I say I’m fine. Who grabs my hand and runs. Who nestles up to me when it all becomes too much. Who is thick as thieves and we do not care what others think.

But imposter syndrome paints a vivid picture of all the people I thought I was. And every single version doesn’t come close enough to what I think other people love.

It’s hard enough to live inside this body. Without the worry that for others it’s not good enough to be seen and held and free.

Streak Break

I forgot to write yesterday. Well I didn’t forget. I thought about it, but had nothing to say. Except that I’m tired. Which isn’t new or inspiring or anything other than a feeling. Or a lack of feeling after a long day of tense hope weaving with subtle worry.

So I didn’t write. I broke the streak. But it doesn’t matter. I am writing now.

It’s not poetic, or well thought out. It is just what it is. Letters molded into words. Words braided into sentences. Sentences stacked into paragraphs.

Not sure it means anything and yet it means too much to give away.

I keep thinking about the past like it could be changed.
Like I could rewrite one scene and save everything.

Just give me a pen and I’ll edit my way out of this mess.