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  to the authors who

  helped me fall in love

  with words:

  thank you for sharing

  a piece of yourselves

  with the world.

  the anchor

  to my mind:

  we are at war, you and me.

  an everlasting exchange of

  insults and new wounds

  and apologies

  that always come just a little too late.

  by the time you say

  i’m sorry

  i have already absorbed the blow.

  a new battle scar has risen on my skin.

  my body cannot defend itself from you anymore.

  and i’m scared a truce will never come.

  like an anchor

  around my ankles,

  i can’t escape the voice

  in my head that says

  you’ll never be

  anything but nothing.

  to insecurity:

  if i could step out of my body

  and see myself from another view,

  would i recognize me?

  would i see everything that i think

  is so wrong?

  (would i see everything that i think

  is so unworthy of love?)

  i urge my mouth to open

  and push the words out.

  i have so much to say,

  but i choke on

  self-doubt.

  to anxiety:

  every conversation i have

  becomes your new favorite song

  and you play it on repeat,

  only pressing pause

  once i’ve analyzed every word.

  (you’ve made me fear

  the sound of my own voice.)

  i am sitting on the bus, on my way to the store. the girl next to me sneezes. i say bless you and she doesn’t say anything back and i wonder if it’s because i said it too quietly or because she thinks i’m weird for talking to a stranger. the bus slows as it arrives at my stop and i stand too soon, stumbling to catch myself, praying i won’t fall. i hear two boys laughing and i wonder if they are laughing at me. i say thank you to the driver and he doesn’t say anything back and i wonder if it’s because i said it too quietly or because he thinks i’m weird for thanking him. i am walking along the side of the road, on my way to the store. earbuds in. head down. counting the lines in the pavement as i walk. i accidentally make eye contact with a girl passing by so i smile. she doesn’t smile back and i wonder if it’s because i smiled too softly or because i am invisible. (god, i hope i am invisible.)

  to the one who keeps letting me down:

  i love when you hold me.

  feeling your hands wrap around mine.

  feeling your hands slowly open.

  feeling your hands let me go.

  i love the feeling of falling so much

  that i keep reaching for you

  just so you can let

  me

  go

  again.

  you hurt and you lie

  and you break me like an

  ocean wave

  breaks on

  the shore

  and i keep swimming back

  because somehow there are still

  pieces of me

  that you have

  not destroyed.

  you are the ocean’s current

  pushing me away

  and pulling

  me right

  back in

  and i am the waves that

  foolishly curl around

  you and

  refuse to

  let go.

  to the one who watched me fall:

  when we first met,

  you swept my feet off the ground.

  who knew you would be the one

  to push me back down?

  before i knew it,

  my body was caught in quicksand

  and the only way out was

  the pull of your hand.

  but you said you couldn’t reach me,

  so i sank deeper into the ground

  and watched you walk away

  while i slowly drowned.

  if you were falling,

  there is no distance

  my arms wouldn’t reach

  to catch you.

  (i guess i just wasn’t

  worth saving.)

  to the one who used me:

  my bones are weak

  from carrying you on my back

  for so long.

  i sacrificed my strength for you

  but now i can no longer

  smile without pain

  and here you are,

  walking just fine,

  stronger than ever.

  i held my breath

  to keep you alive

  while you took enough air

  for us both to survive.

  to the ones who take and take and take:

  you are eyes closed

  when i want to be seen

  and ears shut

  when i beg to be heard.

  you are arms folded

  when i crave to be held

  and voice quiet

  when i need to be reassured.

  it’s funny—

  i’m always

  placing love into your palms

  but when it’s time to give it back,

  suddenly your hands are empty.

  to the one who stole from me:

  i offered you pieces of my soul

  without a second thought,

  as if i was sure you would give them back.

  and when you still needed more,

  i dug a little deeper,

  pulled out my heart like a weed

  and planted it carefully in your hands.

  and i’ve learned that

  sometimes,

  giving everything

  means nothing

  to the person who

  means everything

  to you.

  (and when i gave you everything,

  i was left with nothing.)

  i am strong for

  giving away my heart

  but i am weak for

  letting you keep it.

  to the one who lied:

  you said you would love me

  if i gave you my trust

  so i trusted you.

  you said you would stay

  if i changed myself

  so i changed for you.

  you said you would come back

  if i begged enough times

  so i begged for you.

  and only after all this

  did i ask you to stay,

  but you only sighed

  and wandered away.

  maybe it’s easier for me

  to swallow lies than to swallow truth.

  maybe that’s why i never stop

  craving the taste of you.

  to the one who controlled me:

  like the leaves that hang

  on autumn trees,

  i changed my colors for you

  just so i could hear you say

  i’m beautiful.

  but do you still recognize me

  after i made the changes

  you asked for?

  or am i identical

  to everyone else who

  wasn’t good enough for you?

  i changed because

  losing myself

  was easier than

  losing you.

  to the one i once called home:

  you were meant to feel like home

  but now your arms are a cage.

  your chest was once my pillow

  but now i’d rather turn away.

  your voice was once a song

  but now your words ring in my ears.

  i knew something was wrong

  but still i pushed aside my fears.

  i never gave up on us

  but soon you left me in a blur.

  you were meant to feel like home

  but now you’ve found a home with her.

  i’m sorry i built

  a home out of you

  like you were made of clay.

  i didn’t realize you had

  no intention of

  inviting me to stay.

  to the one i want to forget:

  i am a keeper of fingerprints

  and a collector of dust,

  but i crave to remember

  everything you once touched.

  my fingers trace over the

  glass of shattered picture frames.

  i close my eyes and urge myself

  to toss them in the flames.

  i burn the crumpled letters

  that remind me of you,

  but i can’t seem to forget that

  you once touched me, too.

  (if only i could burn you

  from my skin.)

  loneliness slips past my lips

  and settles into my lungs.

  the air i used to breathe so peacefu

lly

  now feels foreign in my chest.

  it doesn’t feel safe anymore.

  it doesn’t feel like you.

  to my weakness:

  loving you was a game of tug-of-war.

  pulling each other in opposite directions

  and demanding change

  that did not want to come.

  so neither of us ever won.

  the rope finally tore and

  we fell on our backs,

  farther apart than where we started.

  you always said we were so alike.

  everything you did, i wanted to do.

  so when you put the blame on me,

  naturally, i blamed myself, too.

  to the one who broke me:

  did you feel my heart shatter

  when you crushed it with your

  bare hands?

  did you pull the pieces

  from your skin like broken glass,

  or did you keep them

  as a reminder,

  a trophy,

  of how you hurt me?

  my favorite game is the one

  where you try to heal me

  and we both pretend you are

  not the reason i am broken

  in the first place.

  to the one who always wins:

  your legs are much longer than mine

  but still i chase your footprints on the shore,

  and it doesn’t matter how many steps i take

  because you’re always ahead.

  i’ll never catch up.

  i’ll never be good enough.

  i’m just a shadow lurking behind you,

  hoping one day you’ll turn around

  and notice how i long to be by your side.

  i am the master of silent suffering—

  no one can see through my somber smile.

  like a crab in the sand,

  i burrow into my sadness and

  settle in like it’s my home.

  no one ever seems to notice

  i’m underground.

  to my dark cloud:

  i gazed up at the sky and saw

  cryptic, mysterious, powerful.

  always protecting me.

  (always following me.)

  you were a thunderstorm

  when the sky was clear

  and i chased sidewalks to

  escape the rain,

  shielded my ears

  from the sting of thunder,

  cowered under roofs to avoid

  the lightning you threw.

  oh, how i wanted to be the sunlight

  that swallowed your darkness.

  how i wanted to be the rainbow

  after your storm.

  i am strong, but

  i cannot stop fury

  with my bare hands.

  she surrendered herself

  to the darkness

  because she grew so tired

  of waiting

  for the sun to rise.

  to the one i pushed away:

  when it rained today,

  i thought of you,

  a little more than

  i usually do.

  and i wished as waterdrops

  settled onto my skin

  that i could go back in time

  and just let you in.

  i was only trying

  to water your roots

  so you could grow.

  i did not intend to

  drown you.

  (forgive me.)

  to the one who doesn’t need me anymore:

  suddenly, you fell in love with the sun,

  bowing gently toward the light,

  seeking the warmth

  you used to ask from me.

  you only grew strong from

  the water i gave you to drink,

  but it wasn’t long before you

  stabbed me with your thorns.

  i am both a healer

  and a harmer.

  i fix everyone i can

  but in the end,

  i have no strength left

  to heal myself.

  to the one who is always on my mind:

  i miss you most during storms,

  when the wind sweeps through my head

  and scavenges for the memories of you that

  i had carefully placed into cobwebbed corners.

  i miss you most during storms,

  when the rain seeps into my skin

  and leaves me yearning for the body

  that once kept me safe and warm.

  i miss you most during storms,

  but if i’m being honest,

  i miss you always.

  because i thought

  you would be here always.

  my arms search for you in the night,

  desperately grasping at air.

  meanwhile in my dreams,

  i reach for your hand and you are there.

  to my enemy:

  how bravely you stood across from me

  when you didn’t stand a chance.

  we raised our swords defiantly

  for our battle to commence.

  i knew all of your weaknesses

  and defeated you with glee

  but when you removed your helmet

  my reflection stared back at me.

  if i write down

  all the vicious words

  i use

  to describe myself

  and set fire to the pages,

  will they cease to exist?

  (i can’t think of another

  way to escape.)

  to the person i was yesterday:

  i believe in change,

  the change that people don’t often notice

  until it’s already happened

  like

  petals wilting,

  eyes reddening,

  raindrops evaporating.

  i believe in change

  that is slow and careful,

  patiently lingering

  like

  flowers blooming,

  pearls forming,

  hearts healing.

  i see little hints of you

  tucked in my reflection

  and i wonder if you’d be proud of me.

  (i wonder if you’d forgive me for all

  the things i used to say about you.)

  i stepped cautiously in front of my mirror to find a girl with swollen eyes dressed in armor, protecting her body from the sting of the words i had been throwing at her for years. i didn’t realize how much damage i caused until i saw her dented shield and trembling arms. but she never surrendered, never threw her shield down in defeat. in her, i saw resilience. a girl waiting patiently for change.

  i’m sorry, i pleaded.

  can you forgive me?

  the sail

  to anxiety, ii:

  you’ve always been good at

  choking me

  with my own words

  but

  i am

  tired of feeling tired

  when i speak.

  today

  i must apologize to myself

  for placing a hand

  over my mouth

  while my voice patiently

  waited to be heard.

  (i’m sorry.)

  to the one who hurt me:

  when i was nine, my brother and i

  caught a frog and kept it in a bucket outside,

  hidden away in the tree house our dad built for us.

  after school, we searched through the grass

  for bugs for it to eat and

  filled a bowl with water for it to drink and bathe.

  through four cold winter months,

  the frog had no shelter beyond the leaves

  that blew in from the branches above.

  when i look back, i realize how it suffered.

  i realize the pain we caused

  even though we had good intentions.

  we were just loving it the best way we knew how.

  so when you look back, i hope you realize

 

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