You ask me to just be myself

And I ask myself if I’m scared of being myself

Because myself is a tornado of bad and good

I can lift houses off the ground

And dismantle roots from the earth

While providing sun to flowers in April

And creating puddles that reflect the clouds

I know we all have issues

But I’m still trying to sift through mine

The anxiety, the sadness, the confusion

Blur in the spaces between laughter and disbelief

I’m still not sure how to hold a conversation

Until it’s already in my hands

You ask me if you’re making me nervous and I just laugh

Because I’m always nervous

The strangest part

I used to think it was normal

Until someone told me to relax

And I realized how tense my shoulders are

How worried I am of my image

From the back, from the front, from either side

Is it neat

Is it relaxed

Is it put together but not rigid

Is it perfect

No perfection is impossible

Still I put myself down

For that little extra skin, for the droop in my eye

And you don’t realize what loops through my mind

A film reel on repeat

Never dusty

—

*Because who is “myself” anyways?

*While I’m on vacation for the next two weeks I’ll be posting some writings I’ve written over the past couple months.