I Think You Knew What You Were Doing This Whole Time. I Hope I Don’t Get Hurt In The End.

I want to be one of those normal people.

I know what you’re thinking, ‘there’s no such thing as normal.’

There are people out there though, that don’t hesitate to walk out the door to go to a store. There are people that don’t fantasize about death. There are people who don’t have trauma or flashbacks and nightmares about what others have done to them.

I want to be one of those people that wasn’t diagnosed with a major depressive disorder at 17.

I want to be one of those people that didn’t have to try several medications just for them all to fail.

I want to be one of those people that doesn’t have an anxiety disorder, and has a hard time just leaving the house.

I want to be one of those people that didn’t have to go to a therapist, just to add PTSD to the list of mental disorders.

I want to feel like a person again, instead of a number of things wrong with me, that affect my day to day life.

Please. Just let me be..

Do you realize how difficult it is for me to put myself first? I have lived in the shadow of everyone I have ever been with. I have made myself smaller trying to fit in and be everything that they need, always. 

Now, is the time for me. It took me thirty years to finally acknowledge this. I will lose people in doing so. I will have to put my own feelings ahead of everyone else. 

Honestly, I don’t even know where to begin. How do I learn to not care about how I make everyone else feel? How do I do what I need to do to heal and become this better version of me? How do I even be me?

Who am I, really?  

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I don't want to die today.

I'm usually contemplating my life, or lack of, through these hours.

Living is difficult most days.

Then you happened along, and reminded me there are still things to live for.

Your positivity is contagious.

I have a new disorder within me now, that illuminates the darkest parts of my mind.

The sunrise is beautiful again every morning.

Uneasiness that sends moths down my throat, have turned to butterflies.

I adore you.

I need to see the universe through your eyes, just once.

So I will have something to hold onto when the moon is high at night, and the darkness attempts to seduce me.

I’m in love with the stars. With the moon. They make appearances in my writing more often than they should. There’s something so romantic about looking into the night sky. I suppose I am a romantic at heart, who knew?

I despise myself. The way I live, or rather a state of surviving until the next sunrise. I despise the way I let others speak to me. The way I choose to live. I have no will to change it though. I will disassociate my days away.

I speak with the moon, most nights.

I tell him my secrets and dreams.

He listens intently at all I have to say.

People may say I’m crazy, but I have the stars that witness my madness.

I believe in the moon more than any person. He doesn’t judge me for what I have to say.

If I listen closely, he speaks back to me.

He tells me of his darkness, and how no one truly sees him without the sun.

He holds a special place in my heart.

For I am also unseen in my darkness.

I want to know, but I will not ask.

I mourn for all the women that were misunderstood in the past. The women who wanted to live their lives without the restraint of man telling them how they should live. Women who were burned alive for no reason other than they were born the wrong gender. Women who spoke their minds and were persecuted because their beliefs were different.

I will mourn for all the women who live after me. Women in the future will face the same things we have been experiencing for thousands of years. I have never considered myself a ‘feminist’. After years and years though, you’d think that something would change. If it hasn’t changed yet…why would anything ever be any different?

I believe in magic.

Not like the magic in fairytales, full of dragons and spells.

I believe in the magic of those small moments.

I believe in the magic of a dandelion growing in the crack of asphalt.

The moment between your inhale and my exhale.

Finding a constellation in the sea of millions of stars.

The way your eyes light up like a stormy sky.

The dew on the early morning grass.

Magic is what makes this world go ‘round.

I’m so thankful to be a part of these small magical moments.

The wanting is killing you, darling. The longing is keeping you from sleep. The way your chest aches is like a stone at the bottom of a lake.