diary entry : confessions
I think that fear is a parasite that develops with time.
I was told as a child that confessing makes you better that an insecurity is a silly thought that as soon as i come out with it my sky wil be pink and my friends will hold my hands forever and stick to me because i have showed my truth..
I was told that fear is a lie my head made up and that it's my choice to either get trapped within the lies i created or be freed..
But mother oh mother why does the truth taste so bitter why does it taste more like another fear of judgment why do my hands shake and my body breaks into shivers after i would supposedly come out. You told me that confessing will free me you told me i'd break my mind's walls not dams mother.
I broke dams and tears are what i was met with carrying the desperate need to be understood as a person not a fuckup not a problem not a freak..
Mother i am a freak and when i am alone my body is my land and home is a universe but being out is scary and the truth trick does not help anymore.. When i am out i need some sort of an approval or a assurance that i am okay that it's okay but it's not really i stick out of every group like a sore thumb and staying calm is not in my blood so i try to be a goddess i try to create my 7 virtues and they are all about love and acceptance but i feel like i am tracing the patterns of mythology with my hopes after i was stoned with my own words they throw my needs at me as if i would be ashamed of them but i am not. Mother my truth did not do me good and although i am tired of fighting assumptions and proving myself every other minute i would rather drown in the flood of my dams than to have fear eat at my insides .
Until i find a way to unplant fear from my gardens
Your little girl
Sara
I was told as a child that confessing makes you better that an insecurity is a silly thought that as soon as i come out with it my sky wil be pink and my friends will hold my hands forever and stick to me because i have showed my truth..
I was told that fear is a lie my head made up and that it's my choice to either get trapped within the lies i created or be freed..
But mother oh mother why does the truth taste so bitter why does it taste more like another fear of judgment why do my hands shake and my body breaks into shivers after i would supposedly come out. You told me that confessing will free me you told me i'd break my mind's walls not dams mother.
I broke dams and tears are what i was met with carrying the desperate need to be understood as a person not a fuckup not a problem not a freak..
Mother i am a freak and when i am alone my body is my land and home is a universe but being out is scary and the truth trick does not help anymore.. When i am out i need some sort of an approval or a assurance that i am okay that it's okay but it's not really i stick out of every group like a sore thumb and staying calm is not in my blood so i try to be a goddess i try to create my 7 virtues and they are all about love and acceptance but i feel like i am tracing the patterns of mythology with my hopes after i was stoned with my own words they throw my needs at me as if i would be ashamed of them but i am not. Mother my truth did not do me good and although i am tired of fighting assumptions and proving myself every other minute i would rather drown in the flood of my dams than to have fear eat at my insides .
Until i find a way to unplant fear from my gardens
Your little girl
Sara
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