Such small hands, turned so bloody:
I stare into the glass I hold so tightly in my hands, and I see little me. She looks confused like she doesn’t know who’s In front of her, and to be honest, I don’t either. She looks back up at me and she whispers “who is he?” And I respond “He is me, he is we” and suddenly she disappears. I watch as those hands, such small hands turned so bloody, I hold the glass in my hands too tightly but I’m too numb to stop.
I could scream, but my body won’t let me, I could fight but my fingers are too curled up to even attempt to. I think of my life, what little there is of it, and I feel like I could cry, my teenage years are over but they felt wasted, pained, sad. I didn’t do much with them.
I see all this fear on my screens, my phone, my iPad, my laptop, my tv but I think I’ve learned to embrace it, cause it’s just apart of who I am. My head is constantly full of hate and darkness, that something of joy feels like my mind is exploding, suddenly 10 year old me is ahead of me and she knew all along who we were. And I wanna hug her but before I can I’m eye to eye with a teenager who doesn’t understand why her friends don’t like her anymore and why her thoughts and feels are so complicated.
I know that I can be happy, it’s not that hard but sometimes you just have to cry, I know that. And sometimes you have to get lost a few times to find the right way, even if that minds finding who you actually are. I’m scared of changing but I know that in a few years it’ll all be worth it. And I’m scared of love but I know that someday future me will be smiling back wondering what he was worried about, yes, he.
I can’t control the world, never could, but there’s this overwhelming crushing fear that one day everything is gonna become all too much, maybe that day already came. But I find the solace in music, in writing, in women’s sports, in letting my voice be heard. I find the solace I knowing that one person can change the fucking world.
I could change the fucking world.
Such small hands, turned so bloody by the pains of your own mind, by the pains of time, of having to grow up.
Sometimes I wish I could stay little forever, have the childlike wonder and innocence, the whimsy of imagination that just makes you smile, it makes me sad now that I don’t go outside much, it just feels safer being surrounded by brick and walls.
I’m okay being seen as weird, I’d rather be weird. I’d rather be weird than be mean, than be rude, than be that person I don’t wanna be, than be wrong. I might not be a genius and frankly I don’t wanna be, I’m smart in my own ways even if I don’t think it sometimes.
And to all who read this,
I’m okay.
I promise.