This is the love I poured into words when it seemed I had lost the world. And others wondered if they had lost me. Words of mourning, chrysalis, and becoming for The Girl Who Sat And Waited for the world to stop spinning. The Girl Who Sat And Waited for the world to respect her – see her for a true soul, an individual. The Girl Who Sat And Waited for her own love to be enough – enough to start remembering.

Why am I full of death?

That is what it feels like.

Defeat.

It may be the fucked up

Chemicals in my brain.

It may be the past

-Bits and pieces-

Glooming over my shoulder.

It may be the unconscious 

Influence of so many others,

Into one: Me.

But what are my thoughts?

They are so fleeting,

Just like this feeling will be, I know.

But what are my thoughts?

Are they saying that I am bad?

-I know I am not bad-

Are they that I have failed?

-I know I have only begun-

Are they that I am not capable?

-I have shown great capability-

Are they that I have no worth?

-I know that I am treasure-

But what are my thoughts?

They are so fleeting,

Just like this feeling will be, I know.

But what are my thoughts?

I don’t want to be 

Me anymore.

I’m sad because of my past.

It’s looming over me.

I feel like I am bad.

I feel like I am nothing good.

I want to be consumed by 

The water.

What is the point?

I want company.

But what kind do I want.

I don’t think I want death,

Just death to this life.

It feels as time moves on

That life becomes

More and more real.

And 

Nothing ever feels as real

As it should.

I feel too much guilt

But at the same time

Not enough at all.

Other people are real

I’m begging to be seen as one

Yet ignoring

That others are doing the same.

I have so much anxiety

And none at all.

How is it

That there are so many parts 

And versions of me?

Versions of ways to see

Anything:
Situation, person, orbit.

I believe I am a good person

To a fault

And simultaneously

Do not believe in my beauty. 

I get lost in my reflection

But fleeting looks

In the mirror

I do criticize.

I constantly forget:

Who I am – 

That is the basis 

Of my shaky core.

I am human

And it is not too late for me

To learn.

I must heal.

And then I can be like them.

I can be great

-I am great-

I felt lost because

It felt

My brain 

Slow and quiet.

I was only living 

surface level.

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