It says a lot that none of us feel the need to waste words. This shit is in print. Why paint you a picture of turds. A landscape confused by the cacophony you’ve heard. In one ear and out the other.

Read aloud or in our head. Do you dread the caustic discord your mind is being fed? Led down this path of crap. These colors do run and though none wish to tread. Stepping in it is only slightly less common than having your daily bread. And god forbid it hits the fan. What say you edit it for the bowl instead.

I hate this choice, that hangs above me

Her smile the cause of all this calamity

Her emeralds, roses, delicate skin

The face of an angle awaiting for sin

My heart aches with fear, love, anticipation

But the hands of love's faith plans my own execution

An eye for an eye, a love for a love

But who will I lose for the heart of a dove?

A simplistic request in my own relm of known

But hated by those in my mind, in my home

Am I just another Ophelia, is she my Juliet?

What is this but a young lovers lament

A centeries old problem, with a modern solution

My heart will but beat forever, I'll wait for personal seclution

Before I truely know, because if they do

I'll lose old love for a lover's heart I'm bound to

Lose, I miss acting in scripted normality

Loved by the ones who's faith doesn't love me

I love the sun, I love the trees, I love the butterflies and the flowers; I love my dogs, I love my friends. 

At times I even love you. 

But it is impossible for me to live in that love for I fear how you will love me. 

Will you love me the way my parents do and forever corrupt me or will you love me like they do in the movies.

Holding me, loving me, cherishing me. 

Or better yet will you love me the way I love you, wanting to be everything but always fearing you are nothing. 

Would it be the way I do, as though you have fallen into the ocean and you’re sinking and your throat is closing up and you know you should fight, should try to reach the surface; so you kick your legs a few times but you already feel tired so you let yourself sink to the bottom, disgusted in your weakness but relishing in the freeing sensation running through your body? 

Would we even be able to love each other? 

I know and you know that we don’t love ourselves, that we barely have the energy to say hello, so how would I love you and you love me?

Would I be too much for you? 

Would you be too little for me? 

Or would one of us love the other more than the other loves us? 

Would I ban you from driving in fear of losing you because my entire world would be in that car? 

Would you raise a hand on me, would you stop me from being friends with other boys? 

Would I let you? 

So I would rather love you deep in my heart, in secret, not even admitting to myself that I love you in fear of being left behind than let you love me.

How would you love me?  

To all, I internally scold

without a single thought.

To see someone controlled,

by what I wish I forgot.

If only I could keep it down,

as well as I can with a feeling,

if only I didn't get the urge to drown

myself in the lie that is so appealing.

My body begs and pleads

for a morsel of forgiveness,

most fights, my brain succeeds.

I wish so badly to expel this sickness.

Impending horror fills to the brim,

as I feel my body give up.

The Truth, so rotten and so grim,

why not spill out sweet lies of syrup?

Oh the hypocrisy,

the contradictions I hold so dear.

For all and wellness, I am a devotee,

who judges those who worry of the same outcomes I fear.

I wish nothing but health and happiness to all,

yet, I'll probably keep avoiding the mirror,

and continue to act like my actions don't appall

every standard I hold to wellbeing so clear.

It's not as if I want want it.

Or to say that I don't deserve it.

I do.

I want it completely.

I want it despite the unforeseen challenges that comes with it.

despite not understanding the cost.

despite not knowing it's affects will have on me.

and my family.

I want it while knowing what it opens up.

The opportunties it creates.

The ways it allows me to help others.

Can you really want something

and fear it at once?

Can you truely believe its yours

if you fear it too?

Maybe.

Maybe this fear is nothing more than a symptom.

A symptom of stepping out of my comfort zone,

and towards the version of myself

that is aching to be set free.

So I step forward.

each day taking baby steps.

through the uncomfortableness.

through the doubt.

through the fear.

stepping closer to who I am.

who I am

when I get there.