There are journals and canvases scattered all over the floor left from my 2 AM song lyrics and watercolor ramblings

and somehow, their disarrayed arrangement is art within itself

that kind of organized chaos

I feel like it reflects what my mind looks like currently.

Watercolored silhouettes with blended colors, all nonsense unless explained

yet unexplainable.

Old spiral notebooks opened to one liner lyrics like

“Now you’re running around with girls who look like daydream versions of me”

and pages covered in hurricanes of color, each shade colliding

and pencils thrown halfheartedly across the carpet, falling into some geometric layout of the hallways of my mind.

I will move around the furniture until I find an entirely new configuration, one so new to me I feel I must rediscover myself to properly adjust

because that’s what I need.

A revival.

I need to find myself again

to find who I genuinely am

when the lights are out and everyone goes home


when I am surrounded and crowded and drowned out


when I am heard and I am given time


when I am given love


when I have lost love


when I have realized the love I deserve, the love I need the most, is the love only I can give myself.

I will be rediscovered and reborn.

I have collapsed and am ready to build myself back up from ruins.

I cannot take help from others in this

not this time.

My foundation must be constructed of my bones

and sealed with my promises.

I cannot have another’s glue keep me together this time,

for it will not stick and will give way just as they leave.

I must use myself

for I will always have my words to make sense of my mind and my gentle hands to soothe my aching soul.

I will always be by my side.

It’s time I began to love myself the way I have loved others.

It’s the least I can do.


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