the argument.

secrets.

i am so fucking sick
of the secrets.


i wake with them,
and i sleep with them,
and they follow me,
and i'm fine.

nevermind
those blurring lines.


i know more than i need,
i know enough.

and i am so fucking tired
of people telling me
what i know,
what i don't know,
what i need to know,
what i don't.

what i am,
who i am,
who they want me to be
and why,
when i should be happy,
how and where i should stand,
what i should stand for,
if i should speak slower
or deeper
or at all.


i'm only making friends
with the gray area
between the lies.
i'm only making friends
with the moments
that i'm alone.

open my eyes.
breathe deeply into me
and breathe deeply out of me.
cross my heart.
i'm just counting stars,
looking for my place in the world.
looking for
what,
who,
why,
when,
how,
where,
and if
i want to be.

nevermind
those blurring lines.



i'm ready to talk, but
we are not the same.