Twenty years old and suddenly realizing that as an eighteen year old I was a better writer. I’m surrounded by things, changes, words and people.
I am that person who always has a smile on their face and nobody knows her sadness.
I am that person who is terrified all the time of what she’s capable of. So much so, others walk all over her.
I am that person who is beginning the change to be the person she was born to be.
I am nineteen now and I’ve traveled the
world twice over. I’m still looking for myself but have a better understanding.
I disappeared for a while to do something I felt was right. It angered a lot of people I loved, but they learned to lean and let go. I left a child came back as a slightly older person.
My name is still memoric, and I still am the girl below. Just slightly older:
An eighteen-year-old girl who wakes up every morning at 4:30 to listen to the birds waking up as she ties her shoes to run down a hill where a man will take her to go running with people who inspire her everyday.
A girl filled with confusion and contradictions:
-a painter who never paints
-a lover without a lover
-a girl with focus, who at the same time is unfocused.
I’m looking for my muse, I will try to post beauty, knowledge, or a question every day in an attempt to find it.