I'm not sure if this is a poem, or a short story or whatever but I…
I’ve been unintentionally writing a lot of stream of consciousness style poetry that; although different to how I would usually write, is really growing on me.
This one’s a real debby downer.
A lot of the time I don’t feel like anything is real. I didn’t like what was happening outside so I locked myself in. And inside I’ve been busy with flames and trying to put the fire out. But the more I try the bigger it gets. I think it’s because every time I fall out of love I feel weaker. Like a flower that’s had all of it’s petals pulled off. I used to believe that love could overpower hate. And anger. But I only feel anger. I have been pushed around by people that are bigger than me. It hurts but at least I can still walk. And although I can still walk, it’s becoming harder to run. I feel like I’ve been running for too long. I know you would agree. How do you rebuild yourself when you’ve lost your way. It’s like trying to put together a glass that’s been dropped from the clouds. I can’t even find the damn glass. I had it in my pocket once. It was broken and I kept losing bits. I didn’t intend on leaving shards of it behind. There are pieces of it everywhere. In places that are too far away for me to get to, too hidden for me to find. I don’t think I will ever find it. Let alone piece it back together. I think I’m having trouble understanding that once things are done they cannot be undone because I keep trying to undo it. I’ve been trying to undo it for a long time. I’m still trying to undo it.
– peace and love, Emily xo