purple fog. strobe lights. and the stage unravels slowly. hungry fireflies, closing in around me. and what are they thinking? and are they even listening? and will anyone ever truly understand me?
booming heartbeats. loud music. high heeled boots. and the bustle of an old, tired city. skyscrapers built of broken bones. and isn’t it all so pretty?
all-too-fast, the future rolling out before me–and i’m just a kid, just a kid with anxiety, and that doesn’t mean i can’t do this. i just need a moment. to catch up, and breathe through the rush of panic. because i’m not perfect. and i don’t think i ever will be.
victory waffles, giddy laughter, and god knows where we are, but i feel like i could lift you up in my arms and carry you to the sky right now. so honestly, whatever.
neon sunsets. and i lie awake at 2am, searing statistics into my skin. i signed my name on your arm, and i still don’t know if i loved or hated it. and i tell myself that all of this means nothing, but it doesn’t.
and i bury myself in layers of tissue-paper curtains, and watch the traffic roll out below me like an unfinished story. because i’m tired. god knows i’m tired.
and right now, i just… i don’t want to think about it.
I spoke at a pretty big event in November–which I’m planning on talking more about later, but, um, all you need to know right now is that there were 20,000 people, and it really impacted me for sure. I’ve been thinking about taking this blog to the next level in a lot of ways of late, and I feel like… I’m at the edge of some pretty big, pretty scary decisions. And that’s equal parts scary and exciting–which I hope were embodied in this poem. I’m definitely going to turn this into a spoken word track over the weekend, so get excited for that, I have some plans for it I’m really excited about putting into action!