12:11

I don’t know what I like anymore, or who I like 

I don’t know what kind of person I am, but I do think it’s a load of ******** when a person claims a sureness in themselves as unwavering as the ocean’s ripples

I stand awkwardly at parties and the way I phrase things is weird and I don’t kiss anyone and I’m a fool who expects a grand love to grab me by the shoulders and wrap its arms around me 

I expect so much from a world that has yet to get to know me because I’m still so lost as to who I am

I just know what music makes me cry and that my mother loves me, surenesses that are all knowing but all questioning 

sometimes I think I’m happy, or at least okay 

because I wore skinny dresses and listened to Donna Summer and looked at the hips of girls differently

but I still feel that my skin doesn’t quite fit

How do you measure what size you are?

I thought I was doing okay this summer because i haven’t cried to the breeze and walked around my house in the middle of the night wanting to sit outside instead but being too scared 

Also, why do I only write when I feel heavy?

I’m crying now. 

I want to be creative and different and the same 

I want to feel 13 and hopeful again

I don’t want to only feel hopeful when I look into someone’s eyes and feel romantic love for the first time

I want to give back to this world that has craddled me but still remains my acquaintance (like a drunk girl at a party) 

I want to finish writing this but I don’t know how to, and that’s just it, isn’t it? 

I just don’t know how to.