They saw you
but no one ever saw you
in the way I did.
To them you were a silhouette
cast against the walls;
a flower wilted in the dark;
a parch upon the throat
to fade away with time;
a passing, disappearing reference
in the stories to be written.
To me you were more,
you were you:
a seed to flourish and tread,
leaving gentle footsteps
on the hearts of deserving many’s.
You are the laughter in my throat,
the twinkle in my eyes;
and a novel could not contain
the brilliance of your mind.

(I will always be a wallflower, but maybe
I’m alright with that)



A prose piece

I try too hard. I care too much. I simultaneously hate the spotlight and long for it. I deny the thingsĀ I love and pretend to love the things I really don’t. I think that vulnerability is a crucial part of being human, yet this is the very aspect that I am afraid of revealing. I tell people to do what makes them happy, yet I cannot find the heart to be happy myself. I’m walking down the path well-trodden, earphones in, pretending that I want to engage in no form of social interaction whatsoever… when really, beneath the music that is blasting in one ear, I am yearning for someone to start a conversation with me.

I say I give up, but I never do. I say I hate you, but I don’t. I say I’m okay, but I’m not. I am laughing, but I’ve forgotten how to laugh.

I’ve become a paradox, and my actions have cancelled out my dreams, my desires, my true intentions.