Lend me your eyes. For you see me in ways I can never see myself. You see potential I don't even think exists. Believe me capable of things I know I cannot do. You think me beautiful, tell me I am pretty.

But when I look into a mirror all I see are my faults. The scars and blemishes. The bruises and bumps and scratches, the scabs and the peeling skin. All I see is imperfection, ugliness, healed over wounds fixed with tape and glue. Missing puzzle pieces.

Lend me your eyes, and maybe then I will see myself the way you see me.

I bite back the words I truly want to say. Chew them down, swallow them, like bittersweet medicines. Bury them under layers and layers of doubts, fears, insecurities, lies; six feet under, hoping they'll die buried alive. But they return, every night, when the sun sets and the stars come out. The moon summons them and they rise, looking for release.

Why though?

Because I'm waiting for the perfect time? Or the right setting? Or maybe it's too early? I haven't analysed the lines enough, maybe. Or haven't put the feelings behind the words through the rough choppy waters of the logical thought process. Haven't philosophised or complicated or dramatised or rationalised them enough.

Or maybe smart and logical as I think I am, maybe all I truly am is insecure and afraid. Irrational and foolish. Too careful? Too careless? Confused. And stupid.

Wanderlust

A constant desire to be somewhere else, do something else. To be someone else.
A life different from the one you are living. People different from the ones you know.
Places which are unknown. Food which is exotic.
A need to disappear, in the hope you can find yourself.
You know you are looking for something, but you have no idea what.
And your feet never stay still and you are perpetually restless.
And ideas swirl in your head and you can't hold on to any one of them long enough to put it down.
You want to experience more, feel more, make mistakes and pretend to learn from them.
Calm doesn't come, sleep is full of dreams and nightmares.
So much to do, so little time.

It's so easy to slip back into old habits. So very easy. To return to exactly what you wanted to run away from.

Habits are comfortable, which us why they're so difficult to get rid of. But even the uncomfortable ones which brought you pain and sorrow and discomfort, even those which you know are bad for you, those are difficult to leave behind too.

You run away from them, and you decide you want happiness elsewhere, but it doesn't last long.

Because some habits seep into your blood. And no matter how far you run, how much you try, those will never go away. And you will slip up, fall off the wagon. And hate yourself for it. Powerless against it.

Because some habits are here to stay. Especially the ones that do you no good.

You thrash and fight
Against the bars of the cage
Find yourself locked in
Frustrated and powerless
Trapped like a bird longing to fly free
You tire yourself out
Chafe against the chains
As they burn your skin
And leave raw, painful welts
Helpless, hungry, angry, crazy
You rage against your bonds

And through it all
You don't realise the simple truth,
You built that cage yourself
Forged every link of that chain
Tied yourself down
Threw away the key

Lost, misguided soul
You fight only against yourself.

What I wish I could say to you

You were the one that got away. The one I wish I had kissed the night you dropped me home. When you gave me a hug goodnight, and I could smell the perfume you were wearing, I wish I had leaned in and kissed your breath away, because that is exactly what I wanted to do. I knew you wanted it too, because I could see it in your eyes, but I was too scared to do it, so the moment passed and you left.

You are the one I wish I had never left behind, to chase something else, something I thought I wanted then.

I wish I had told you then how much you meant to me. I wish when you had reached across the table and held my hand that I had never let go.

You made me feel special, beautiful. You took me as I am with no complaints and loved me for the crazy, weird, always-thinking person that I am. You never made me feel like I wasn't good enough for you. You made me feel wanted when I felt completely alone; loved when I thought I didn't deserve it.

You will always be the one that I could have had if only I had given it more time and patience.

You will always be the one that got away.