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.