I often feel inadequate —
Like I am constantly yearning but never becoming.
I often wonder if I will ever be enough,
If anything I ever do will ever be enough.

I try so desperately to pretend that I am,
For I find it unbearably humiliating that I am not.
And like lasers carving their path through my skin,
I feel their expectant eyes —
Eyes that burn with silent judgment.

I read the words within their gaze —
A book authored by my own anxiety.
And I find that I must pretend,
Or else the words become snakes beneath my skin —
Silently devouring me from the inside out.

So I pretend. I pretend. I pretend.
And my pretense is mistaken for a beauty it is not —
The beauty of strength,
Of resilience,
Of ambition.

But the critical truth —
The one I guard with my life —
Is far uglier than they could ever imagine.

The truth is: I revel in the misunderstanding.
The truth is: I have no desire to be.
For I cannot define what be means for me.

Within the embrace of weightless leaves bound together, I find solace,
A dream that welcomes me in the midst of my reality,
Transporting me to places imaginable yet terribly unlikely to be found.
As chaos ensues around me and emotions within me tangle among themselves,
Inviting that chaos within me,
My soul aches for easement, my mind longs for a place of calm.
Within the stories of another’s imagination, I travel,
And for a moment,
I am no longer conscious.
My soul is no longer here;
It has melded into the novels of my reading.
I become a character unbound by the laws of reality,
The wonder of such a journey is something I constantly seek,
Something that makes my heart no longer succumb to the grip of anxiety.
Oh, how I love to read.

More than anything else that life may offer me as the new year approaches, I desire rain and gloom, choking on the scent of secretion from plants as the rain showers-a strangely unpleasant reward.
I desire light emitted in its warmth, embracing me in its rays as the room accommodates me in its space.
The creak of wood as bare feet grace its ageing surface.
The gentle caress of intentionally, creatively, and emotionally articulated sentences as I supine staring at the wonders of the night sky.
The comfort of another that does not need removal, for they are laconic with their words but intentional with their meaning. I desire a reality engulfed by serenity.

Strength is recognized in the moments that our muscles are forced to exert themselves.
When no one is around to help you move that boulder, you must find it within yourself, or you remain stagnant.
In those moments dread coils in your stomach and your eyes wander to your surroundings
You peer down at your frail arms, wondering what strength could possibly lie beneath your skin.
If luck does not evade you, then those moments are few and seemingly life-changing.
It seems, though, that those moments are never-ending for me.
I haven’t had a moment to be weak; I survived not by chance, but by will.
From a young age, trauma has held my hand, grinding my bones beneath its grip and forcing me to writhe in pain.
The little memory that has not hidden itself in the crevasses of my mind plays beneath my eyes, reminding me all that I have survived.
The only word that comes to mind in the presence of such memories is gratitude.
Oh how much I have endured but so inspiringly survived.
Who I am today was forged by every moment of my past.
I am kind and willing to give my last to anyone who needs. Thanks to the depravity of simple nourishments throughout my childhood, how could I turn a blind eye now to those who want as desperately as I did?
I am patient and always available to listen, no matter how seemingly trivial it may seem. Thanks to no one listening while I screamed, how could I now plug my ears as I watch someone strain their throat, begging for anyone to pay attention, just as I did?
I am not defined by what I have endured, but it is the derivative of my strength. I am thankful for all that broke me; I do not look upon my past with disgust but instead with wonder. I am strength, I am resilience. I am grateful for having endured hell and remaining gentle despite it.