I wish the world was kinder to me.
It has made if very easy to assume the worst for things.
The past has gave me the opposite of rose colored glasses.
Instead, they are clouded glasses. Not the blurry kind.
But the storm. Does that make sense?
I always see a storm coming.
Even if there is a possibility that the wind can blow it by or it could just drizzle.
I have fussed over the thunder that has yet to or may never strike.
I fuss over the fact I fuss and am in a vicious cycle of self loathe.
I do not wish to self loathe.
I want to be more in love with myself. Where do I start?
Meeting my own standards I chose. However high they are.
I'm hard on myself because I feel I know better. In every mistake I can think of other paths I could have took.
Paths that would have lead to you not hearing or seeing me as poorly as you do now.
You inspire me, too. I think I should say that more.














