I'm not sure why I'm writing,
just that something about it feels good.
Just knowing that someday
someone will read these emotions
strung across the page like
and see me for who I really was.
Perhaps all these words
are my time capsule.
I like to revisit myself sometimes
Those parts of me that I had forgotton,
lying still in my hands.
It seems like I finally understand
that girl, whose words used to
weigh me down.
Now I remember bits of me
that I couldn't share with anyone.
The dark, cracked, jagged me that
no one ever saw.
Snapped and harsh, that girl I hid on the pages.
Somehow, I feel they're all separate people.
Facets of me, yes,
but different entirely.
I don't always understand it.
And I don't pretend to either.
I just accept it
Because I know that's all she ever wanted in the first place.