february 27th, 2020

to be honest, maybe i’ve spent my whole life like this. wondering if there’s anything in the world that could make me forget that i exist.

and to be honest, maybe i don’t know who i am if i don’t hate myself. but… maybe it’s time i figured it out.

because there comes a point in everyone’s lives when the past is not enough anymore. when i have a choice. to let it define me, or to let me define it. and i refuse to accept that this is all there is.

so for all the times i’ve said it, i’m not sorry any longer. i’m not your damsel in distress, i’m not your punching bag, or your little kid, and i’m not perfect, or invincible.

but i’m not fucking helpless. 


So… to explain the origins of this poem, basically, for a solid four years, I was bullied in school, and I’d be lying if I said that’s why I have anxiety, but it definitely messed me up, and I guess this was just my best attempt at talking back to that part of myself. 

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