I've only been authentic on paper

Never have I spoken a filter-less word

or acted in a genuine way.

It dawns on me now

how little the face I was born with

is associated with the person cultivating inside me.

I drowned every original thought

I've ever been blessed with

and said only what others would think was cool or funny.

At least I had enough sense to write some of it down.

Heres some of the unfiltered words,

so it doesn't die with me,

if no one ends up reading my diary post-mortem:


Don't dim your own light just so others can sleep.


At least I can say this.

At least I can sing and laugh and cry and kick and write and kiss and smile

I'd hate to be the sun, just burning and burning,

No other way to communicate.

But maybe it's better to burn,

Maybe it's a more satisfying release,

Maybe it means more to expell energy that way.


No matter how tight you hold yourself,

how small you compress yourself,

how much pressure you put on yourself for perfection,

you'll never turn into a diamond. 


I don't think I've ever felt the feeling of hate

If anything raises my Ire

The intention of hate turns into pity or annoyance.

Jealousy is an emotion I'm familiar with

But I can even dissect it away from hate.

It's obvious the reason for jealousy is:

I'd like it if I'd had it.


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