You’re trying to figure out why people hate you

Just stop

And figure out why you hate yourself first


Words are little gifts to the world

I thought about a lot of sad and angry things this morning.  But i will not write them down. Because they are not worth it. 

Sometimes we feel like we have so many words in us, they bubble to the surface,  

When we feel like we can put a word to something, we feel its power 

Its moves us to want to express it. But sometimes we let loose monsters

misshapen ill intentioned creatures

the test

I’ve memorised everything –

the sound of your walk

the numbers to your profile, height, that classic blue hue of cloth

the features arranged in your expressions – distant, angered, contemplative, laughing

even your voice – how many times have i rehearsed the words i’d say in response to that distinctive accent

quick test me again before the answers fade

In an origami box

I don’t dare to pick up my pen

I don’t dare to bring it to paper, 

To face myself. 

Voice a flattened cardboard,

Paper thin belief

Folding into myself, 

It’s getting too late 

The instincts to protect myself is gradually

Being crushed out