I’ve never told this to anyone. I’ve just tried to move past. But lately it seems that my insecurities have got the best of me. And I’m no longer in control. No one should ever have to feel like this. To feel like me. Even though the good I have outweighs the bad, the bad is what’s leaving me with sleepless nights. I spend most of my time arguing with my own reflection. For no apparent reason. And it may seem as if I have all the answers, but I’m just as lost as you. I’ve spend the past few years trying to overcome my own misery, but these sort of things take time, and I’m running out of mine. So I will pray to a God that isn’t there, to a world that doesn’t hear, to anyone who will listen, to keep me from becoming everything I promised myself that I would never be. I do not deserve this.
The blonde hair I stare at from across my room as she finally off to sleep. Relaxed and worry less of the anxiety I have caused her, ever so much, I wish to lay and curl up beside. But I could not disturb this rest. The soft subtle raise of the corners of her lips, hiding a smile but too stubborn to show it. Tiny, with the biggest heart, let me in and warm the deepest darkest parts of your worn soul. Coming from me, straight from hell, I can show her the light. Trace the outlines of her skin, flinching from tickles, up and down I could kiss.