You angry girl, you sweet sweet girl with that soul filled with honey.
you are not a waste and your existence is nothing else but holy.
Everything about you is sacred, a prayer between two desperate hands.
I talk pretty now, but at 14 I was in the exact place you are. My head a pool full of blood, my body a dried out river. Still at 20, everything I do is me trying to occupy less space. Every night I go to bed and I just beg God to make me smaller. I stand in front of the and I suck it in, I write poems and I crop things out. I post my thoughts but not before I filter them. Because everything about me is so big, it bothers me deeply, my chest, my hair, my personality. Nothing about me allows me to go unnoticed. These are things I fight to make peace with. Its no way to live, and I'm only telling you this because you say you look up to me while all I look up are ways to heal.
You beautiful 14-year-old have all the capacity to be brave within this moment, don't wait anymore. Life has no traffic light to tell you when its save to go. You owe nothing to no one and your feelings are your own.
Whatever you do, don't hold yourself captive in mine even if you think you have found yourself there.
