the miracle behind this all is that i could have been anyone’s, but i wanted to be yours. i still do. in every world, i’d pick you. but in times like these, i want myself back. i am not trying to take myself away from you, i am not trying to make myself distant from you. i am trying to protect myself. there are many things i want to say, like “things are always easier when i’m buzzed because the voice in my head sounds peaceful.” there are other things i want to say, like “i’m a girl who’s always lived in her head, who is smart enough to portray an image to the outer world, but she really finds nothing more simplistic than her own solitude.” i want to finish things with, “I am sorry that i don’t know how to talk, i want to, but i am better with smiles and hugs. i am not good with words, i can’t speak them. but i can write you a novel. writing is how i express intimacy. but when i talk, i don’t know how to say anything important except for i am sorry for who i am. like this. i am a hypocrite because i always tell people to boldly be who they are, and here i am hiding behind apologies and shadows. i hope you accept me for this, anyway.” but i don’t. i don’t, because inside is a girl who deeply treasures herself, but all of that can be ripped away when i share it with someone else. warsan shire says, “i belong deeply to myself.” and in this moment, i feel like that phrase. i am selfish about sharing myself.

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