m a r c o
what are you doing? what. the fuck. are you doing? tell these people how you feel. tell him how you feel. writing has always been your connection to the world. and you’ve been avoiding it. letting your poetry sit unfinished in your notes app. so scared of the ending that you never write it. lately, life has been sweet. and kind. and good. and you’re so afraid they won’t want to read about that. maybe depression makes for better stories? it’s okay to be a little vulnerable. to admit that you might be falling in love with your life. little by little. that your feelings have changed. that you’re no longer angry. i’m not sure how this happened, but thank God it did. things were looking a little scary for a minute there. but i’m not ready to talk about that yet. i want to enjoy standing in the sunlight for a bit. allow me to brag — i’m surrounded by some of the greats. i laugh from my gut. i move with intention. i still cry, but mostly because i am terrified to lose this little life i love. God, please let me hold on to it for awhile. last year was… complicated. sure. but from inside my ribcage, i needed to hurt like that, to heal like this. this is the version of me i have been waiting to meet. the one my grandma told me i could be. the man you all used to believe in. and maybe someday… you will again. i feel rinsed clean.
i feel free.
x M
“God loves me. it still humbles me. that this force which made leaves and fleas and stars and rivers and you… loves me.” — Maya Angelou










