I am not who you think I am. Or am I?
A constant struggle with self.
Sometimes I feel like I am the only one with a shipwrecked heart amongst a sea of people that don’t allow themselves to feel deeply enough.
I am fucking sensitive. But I’d rather feel and be misunderstood than be a shadow or glimpse of my true being.
When I feel like an unsubstantial street pin in the big city of lost souls, I remind myself who I am by thinking of things I believe in.
I believe bob dylan couldn’t sing, and that it’s possible I can’t write.
I believe things always change for the better.
I believe life is not to live in longing.
I believe in walking through the streets and pretending they are empty.
I believe in wondering “if it was really in my head.”
I believe in wisdom in old people.
I believe in losing myself for a few minutes a day.
I believe in watching my tears disappear in my hands within moments.
I believe in being fearless for the fall of love.
I believe in never painting my darkness golden.
I believe in never erasing my wrong words–i would be left silent.
I believe in fear.
I believe in collecting scars.
I believe that technology can sometimes create clouds around our beings that multiply into memories that we can no longer see.
I believe. Complex conquers simplicity.
Constantly wondering .. If you really knew me.
Am I dysfunctional? I sure hope I am.
-By Emily Marucci.