It's so easy to get caught up with yourself. Lose sight of yourself. Truth be told, I'm shoulders deep in an identity crisis because, who am I? I'm not who or where I want to be in life, but then again, where is that? It's difficult to go about your daily life when everything you do seems wrong and no matter where you go, who you're with, what you're doing, you feel out of place. Perhaps the sad reality is that there is no designated place for us and life is really just a simulation and none of this is real but damn. How I wish this was easier.

I wish I could find a better way to explain exactly what's on my mind. And yet, now that I have the chance to type it out, my mind is blank.

Whatever, here's a poem I wrote
also ya'll don't be salty bitches and repost this without crediting the source pls & thank you xoxo


What if my troubled past proves to be too much for them?
What if it chases them away, not to be seen again?

This isn’t about you fixing me, that’s not what I’m asking for
I take this journey on my own, I’ve been here before
I cannot force you to understand how cruel this world has been to me-
How at every turn, things seem easier when you’re holding me
I’m so afraid that my faith has been lost along the way
And my actions contradict the love that we display

And even when I'm laying next to you
I'm not as close as I used to be
We've gotten distant and I feel for you
For having to put up with me

It could be that I’ve become too attached and we won’t even last too long
But what if I feel this doubt with everyone that comes along?
I’ll scare them away because, in all honesty, I’ve been scaring myself too
My mind circulates how every time we fight I almost know I’m losing you
And although it hurts so much, logic is a failure
I’m so close to death and now I see you’re not my saviour
The truth is you deserve so much more than my past
Even when we’re moving slowly your hopes are falling fast
In the perfect world, you would see that in the end I’m really worth it
But the things about a perfect world is that it isn’t perfect.

- Wiktoria Anastazja