idek

And kid, you’ve got to love yourself. You’ve got wake up at four in the morning, brew black coffee, and stare at the birds drowning in the darkness of the dawn. You’ve got to sit next to the man at the train station who’s reading your favorite book and start a conversation. You’ve got to come home after a bad day and burn your skin from a shower. Then you’ve got to wash all your sheets until they smell of lemon detergent you bought for four dollars at the local grocery store. You’ve got to stop taking everything so goddam personally. You are not the moon kissing the black sky. You’ve got to compliment someones crooked brows at an art fair and tell them that their eyes remind you of green swimming pools in mid July. You’ve got to stop letting yourself get upset about things that won’t matter in two years. Sleep in on Saturday mornings and wake yourself up early on Sunday. You’ve got to stop worrying about what you’re going to tell her when she finds out. You’ve got to stop over thinking why he stopped caring about you over six months ago. You’ve got to stop asking everyone for their opinions. Fuck it. Love yourself, kiddo. You’ve got to love yourself.

I am going to wake up from this dream. I am going to wake up from this nightmare. Who I really am outside this hallucination is something different. Something that is not a puppet or a label or a mental illness or a disease That needs to be cured or taken care off. Who I really am outside this hallucination is something beautiful. Something that holds the whole universe from within itself. Something That is perfect and flawless and lovely and blameless. The real I is the full manifestation of hope and not fear. The real I is an existence that does not doubt its own self. The real I is who I am today and not the person who I was In the past or in the future. The real I doesn’t think about those Things because it understands that only the present time is promised. The real I thinks that it doesn’t have to think to love itself because That’s the natural thing to do. Like how the sun doesn’t think about shining every morning and like how the moon doesn’t think about glowing every night. The real I is a radiant and lovely being.

That’s why I write about you, to let go of you. To speak out about all I’ve ever wanted to tell you but never had the courage to do so.