some

someday’s (today) i feel the heaviness of a life that is not yet mine.

i do not know what my life will be ten years from now,

and on some nights the enormity of my Youth crushes me, because it reminds me of my smallness.

and most days my feelings feel too big, and most nights my feelings feel too small.

i am on a quest for bravery,  and some 

most times i question if i am capable of being a person that feels like a walking dichotomy most nights, but

most mornings I wake and feel like the nights have erased my bruises – the day ready to let me try again.

how can i be so –                                                                                                                                       day and night, at the same time?

i talk and i wonder about my feelings too much.                                                                             is that ok? is that cute? is it ok if it is not cute?

for most of my days i have tried to be dainty and have attempted to fit myself into a perfectly wrapped box, but i can no longer fit –

the paper is crinkly and the sticky on the bow is no longer – sticky.

i write what my brain spews and i do not find coherency in my words but when i am done letting ink sink into paper, i find it in my heart.

is what makes me a writer – being good at writing?                                                                      is what makes me a writer – that i write?

i am here, and i am asking for an inkling of guidance. this is not an existential crisis, this is an existential acceptance.

how do i progress? will it always be such a swing between some days and some nights and some moments?

will it slow down? will this get better? will i?

how?

why?

when?

where?

with who?

how come?

but why?

i feel like a two year old that has just discovered that he has words.

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Author: Elizabeth B.

Yo! I am Lizzy, lovely to know you. I like to write words.

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