A writer is the sum of their experiences.

Just pick up the pen.

Laughter is the note of happiness.

Barefoot on the beach.

Dancing around a bonfire. A thorn stabs my foot.

I remember looking at the rainbow inside each small bubble I created.

Shouts, screams, and a bittersweet apology.

That was when I knew marriage ends.

I’m sixteen years old and I don’t know why my heart hurts so much.

Perhaps I care too much for those who would never even remember my name.

I stare at the ceiling and wonder what will become of me.

There are days where I cannot tell if I am alone, or just lonely.

A shadow passed my window and I thought perhaps it was you.

He spoke my name as if it was honey, now he says it as if it is poison on his lips.

Cheating and lies. Other people’s mistakes are not my mistakes.

Forgive them and forgive yourself.

We were not created to be in abusive relationships, phyiscal, verbal, or toxic ones.

We were not made to hate ourselves or anyone else.

The right people will always pull you out from darkness and self loathing.

People are vulnerable.

The mirror.

I see dark circles around my eyes and realize I carry too much around.

Yet there are also lines from laughter.

There are freckles on my nose from playing in the sun.

Strawberries dipped in chocolate and sand in my hair.

Do all things with love, self-love, searching for love is like searching for yourself.

There is no need to chase after anyone to prove I’m important.

Pain can change a person. I refuse to become bitter because of it.

Only I can define my self-worth.

I look in the mirror again and see a smile.

I’m now twenty one.

I’m almost changed, almost home, almost happy.

Not yet, but almost.

A writer is the sum of their experiences. Go get some.

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