my mom once told me to be kind, to always treat people right, to be a person who's easy to love but i could never want to be any of these things — i don't ever want to have to fit myself into some sort of mould just to be appreciated, i don't want to have to be a certain standard of beautiful to be loved, only to lose every thread, every semblance of myself that is ugly in every dimension, in every way imaginable— i am hard to love, and i'd rather be that way than to have to find temporary reprieve in the arms of someone who could never promise to stay, i am tired of lukewarm love and to have to hold myself together so tightly that every single jagged edge cuts into my skin, i am tired of feeling like i'll never be enough, and i am tired of feeling like i am never worthy and i am tired of being afraid—
and so this is me promising myself that i will find my own kind of happy and i will find love perhaps in the beauty of places, in the beauty of everydays, and maybe someday in myself, but never ever in someone else for i would never want you to love me for the way i looked in the light
and stop when you realize that i am everything that i am not
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