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You are not your mother’s mistakes. You’re not built by your fathers words. You aren’t your brothers cruel jokes, that hurt you like swords. You’re not your sisters drug habits, or your aunt’s bipolar disorder.. You are you. An anxiety filled insomniac with fairytale fantasies and a mind filled with horrors. They get their kicks off alcohol, but you don’t have to. Sometimes a clear mind is what you need. You think you need smoke in your lungs just to be able to breathe. But you don’t need the weed, you don’t need the nicotine. You need a clear night with no clouds. A space where being yourself is allowed. A spot where you can laugh at dumb jokes so loud, you can’t hear yourself think and it’s okay, it’s ok to be seen. You think you need a love that treats you like a queen. But, babygirl! You don’t need a love other than your own. You need to wrap your arms around your skin and bones and for once call it home. These places aren’t home. These faces aren’t always going to be there for you to find comfort in. If you keep hating yourself you’ll never find love. It’s a fight you’re refusing to even try to win. You can’t starve yourself and expect that to help. Your fat may fade, but you won’t have your health. You can’t put your problems up on a shelf and refuse to acknowledge that they exist, just like your cousin can’t use razors to escape her pain and pretend like it doesn’t leave red marks on her wrist. You aren’t what he told you that you were. Engraving the definition of insanity into your brain so you’d know you’re too fucked up for a cure. You couldn’t cry, because crying only showed he wasn’t the best, and oh, he was only grade a for his sad little princess. You were forced into everything, you had no say. He had a leash on you since the first day. You were still with your man, and that was supposed to be forever.. But he crept in - deceiving and clever. He planted the idea that you weren’t happy with your situation and that happiness is what you and him could be making. That smile on your face wasn’t real you were faking. As time went on you didn’t know if you were right or wrong. Was this what living together was? Long nights filled with pointless fights that dragged on? You had so many emotions, all of which he hated. The only peaceful time you had together was on the drive home from getting h, and.. I don’t ever want you going through that again. A lover is a friend. Friends let you cry, they let you laugh, they let you sleep in. Not blame your sleeping past ten a lack of love, not telling you you’ll never have his trust. That was a year and a half wasted you’ll never get back. You’re through with that. Stop writing poems about finding yourself, you know who you are. You got a little sidetracked by fake love but you didn’t wander too far. You’re back on the old road filled with fairy trees, you can hear ghost stories whispering through the leaves. Your self respect was only waiting for you about a mile out of town, knowing that you’d wander but never let yourself be dragged too far down. Now that the whimsical wonder is back in your life, you have time to decide. You don’t have to hide.
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