Dear me, Sincerely You

Dear Me,

I don't know if I'd like to chat just yet, you look into this mirror you own, stare into your brown blossoming eyes with the discomfort of the way your lips form and the way your face lines. You get obsessed over gently caressing your acne with your fingertips hoping it goes away, you pray most of the time to be someone you're not, I want you to accept who you are, but I know it's hard. You hold your pencil and gently press it onto the thin piece of paper wanting to write, but write what? From all the way to my soul to the outside of my body, I want to be good, they say write a goal but what? I want to know what's good for me, but I don't know if I even KNOW what my goal is, what do you want to do with your life? Do you want to grow old rich in a mansion, I know you'd say no, but you don't want to live on the side of the street starving from a pit of emptiness in your body. You want some, but not all, and that's a start from somewhere. But even though I don't know if that's Truley what you want, you let me know.

Sincerely Me,

Thats correct, I don't know what I want, but I know I don't want everything, I'd feel gross and guilty of all causes, I think I want to settle to be a kind girl. I just want to be happy with myself, but my pencil isn't writing, my hand won't move, my thin piece of paper withers as of age and time, it denigrates into pure nothing. But i believe nothing is ever too late, because there's more paper to get, a notebook as more pages than one, and there's going to be a point where you run out of pages, but only a fool can screw up that much. I might be a fool, but I might be able to find out what my goal should be, maybe? I don't know, I'm lost but I still have a lot of time to figure out who I am and how to change.

Tomorrow is another day.