i’ve always been pretty spazzy. my balance is a wreck (i can and will fall over out of nowhere) and i run into things a lot. i talk too fast, almost as if i don’t get a thought out fast enough someone will be quick to cut it off. i stumble over my words often, tripping over letters and sounds until it’s all just a big blur coming out of my mouth. when i get excited about things i do a little jump thing while i talk. i’ve been told it’s endearing, but i’m not quite sure when it stops being so and i’m expected to grow up a bit.
lately i’ve struggled with knowing what exactly constitutes growing up. i’ve stated im 18 now more times than i can count, but it’s intentional, because for some reason i can’t bring myself to believe it. for some reason what’s expected of me is more confusing than ever. any time i sit down and write lately, all i can seem to say is how much i hate it.
the feeling comes and goes, the uncertainty and wonder keeping me awake. some days it’s gone entirely, some days i feel the full weight of it resting on my chest and my shoulders.
i fall in and out of love with myself constantly, deciding which one it is each morning only to have it change by that night. blah blah blah, no one understands me. is that unhealthy? i don’t know.
it’s getting close to midnight again and only the sound of my keyboard is keeping me company.
nothing has changed in about a month.
i don’t want to say i’m not happy, because i am.
happier than i’ve been in a while.
more and more comfortable in my own skin with each day that passes.
i just have these moments every time i can’t sleep
where every memory i’ve ever made comes rushing back,
and my chest tightens the same way it did in october.
back when the cold still drove us to keep each other warm
and the weight of growing up still hadn’t fully settled in.
i wanna say i’ll stop being nostalgic someday,
but i think i know better by now.
we are all so lost.
that’s the only thing i know i know.
being a kid is so scary.
i keep staying up all night,
listening to the same song for seven hours
so many times the beat is permanently ingrained in my mind
the next day i find myself tapping along on anything i can
with bags under my eyes just as heavy as my soul
and my mind racing, terrified of not becoming anything
the truth is i still don’t know who i am
but i have to pretend i do
because no matter how many times i’m told its okay
i’m just a kid
it never feels real
it feels like im falling behind in a race i can’t win
so i just sit on my bed
wrapped in memories of things i lost
and i write frantically
all the feelings making my chest tight
seeing them on a page makes them feel smaller
i still feel like i can only write in cliches
at least they’re mine
i’ve always said i write best late at night
something about the quiet
they wrap me in their arms
from the safety of 2 am i feel like the only person in the world
everything seems so small
it’s so easy to forgive and forget lying awake with only your thoughts beside you
you used to tell yourself you could never do all the things you’ve already done
you got the hole in your nose lined up exactly
to match the one in your heart
and at night you lie awake wondering how it was that you got here
but you’re happy
for the first time in a while you feel like somebody that could be you
you’ve found yourself
the happy moments last longer than the sad ones
and everything is easier to shake off
and you whisper tender words onto a page at all hours of the night
to remind yourself that it’s gonna be alright
my heart tonight feels blank
i have to start over
write a new story on it
make it capable of beating on its own
but it hurts unbearably to tear off the pieces of what was there before
i have to go through them all
piece by piece
reliving every moment
every word that now seems obsolete
whispers of memories that i hold closest
they slip through my hands
blown away by winds of change
i know time heals all wounds
but me and time aren’t exactly friends
this feels eternal
when is it over
tell me this has to finish somewhere
hold on to the edge of this building it feels you’re falling off of,
this will pass,
I know the wind is blowing
your hands slip,
I know the ground is millions of miles away.
you have the strength to pull yourself up
step by step
slowly and surely
so much hope it transforms the you that’s falling
so much so that it’s not you anymore
you can make it, you already have.