"What's On Your Mind?"

I miss you. I miss the feel of your hair through my fingers and the way you'd sigh and relax into my touch. I miss the random song quotes that are always somehow absolutely perfect for the situation. I miss when you'd laugh like a child. I miss calling you at midnight. I miss how your voice would soften up, just for me. I miss when you'd hug me, then hug me tighter. Like nothing in the world could take me away. Why'd you let me go away? I miss you. Whyd you say those hurtful things to me? Why do you never understand. I love you, and I know you love me. But why are we always mismatched puzzle pieces?

I hate that I'm hurting you. I hate the thought of you lying in someone else's lap. But I can't be there for you like I want to because it will rip me apart.

I don't want anyone else to touch me. Their fingers feel clammy on my skin. And when I see brown eyes in sunlight all I think about is you. How could I kiss someone with your name on my lips? That would be a crime. And yet I want someone to press my body against a wall and cover up your fingerprints with theirs and kiss me so hard I forget everything about kissing you and remember everything about myself. I want to remember how to move toward someone else's warmth. I want to learn how to love you from a distance. How to say "happy birthday." Not "get in your car and come back to me."

I want to see your new girl and be happy for you. I want you to get a new girl. I want you to let me go. Even though it hurts. I want you to be happy without me. Even though that's sort of a lie. I want you to come pick me up and take me home. I want you to mark me and call me yours and tuck me in and sleep on my chest with my fingers in your hair. I want you to sigh and relax into my touch.

But we are still mismatched puzzle pieces.

If my ribs crack from the pain, nature will grow me back.

Why aren't cuddle hookups a thing? I just want someone to drop everything at midnight to come and hold me for a long time. Just because I seem soft and beautiful, and they need to be held too. I want to run my fingers through someone's hair.

That is all.

As you were, peasants.

*La vie en rose plays in the background while I write a letter to my younger self about how being a teen didn't unalive me, and how I've discovered so many beautiful things to love about myself and the world. How I'm so grateful to little me for not giving up despite the hurt. How I met so many beautiful people, and how it did matter. I matter. In the letter I make sure to promise my future self that my teen years won't be the best years of my life bc life is what you make it, and for me this is all just the beginning. *

Just. Look.

i hate it when i cant even write a poem about something because its too obvious. like in the airbnb i was at i guess it used to be a kids room cause you could see the imprint of one little glow in the dark star that had been missed and painted over in landlord white. like that's a poem already what's the point

I wonder how much saltwater I can drink up

FINE, TAKE IT ALL!

LOOK AT THESE BEANS!! We will get through this.🫂

Hi. Things are bleak, I know that. I know that we paid for Trump's last term with blood and it is likely the price will be blood again.

But listen to me. LISTEN.

You do not have to force yourself to witness horrors as an act of activism. It is not a form of activism. You can put your phone down, you can block that horrific video. We cannot win if you cannot fight and you will not be able to fight if you are hopeless.

Do not let them guilt you into this. People who are exhausted are easier to walk over. Take care of yourself, find community where you find joy.

It's true that you must leave behind the old to welcome the new. But make sure you bring into the future the best of you.

Rebirth means parting with fragility Relinquish in place of the unknown However tumultuous or composed Controlled sacifice for betterment

wpm

I remember Anne Shirley said something like 'Why does everyone have to grow up, and get married, and change?!'

But I say, let them. Let the caterpillars become butterflies. Let the owlets spread their wings.

I was so scared of that feeling growing up. I was literally terrified of change.

But now the sky opens up before me and says "fly!"

And who am I to disobey her?

Have you lived?

Have you loved?

Have you felt the burning of passion or heard the softness of a lullaby?

Have you ridden a bike, felt the wind in your hair?

Have you laughed so hard your belly ached? Have you shared that laugh with a friend?

If you've ever helped someone,

If you've ever been brave when you were afraid,

If you choose every single day, to be better than you were yesterday,

I don't care what the world says.

You've done something.

Anaïs Nin, in a diary entry dated 27 February 1929, featured in The Early Diary of Anaïs Nin: Vol. IV, 1927-1931