“I am enough. I am more than enough. I am plenty. Through and through. As I am.”

And what happens when you run out of words? You listen. Deeply. To everything around you.

Maybe I am something special but nothing spectacular.

I am hell-bent on loving my hell.

Think of how good tomorrow might be.

I love my sadness because it is honest.

You write poems or you are a poem. That is where you’ll shine.

Your love is only as good as your intention.

Your trauma is never indicative of who you are and how well you deserve to be loved.

Meet me with authenticity or not at all.

Do you see who I am beyond your judgment? I lay with my core, and there is a force in there.

Don’t fear it. That pull between your heart and mind. It is trying to teach you. It is learning your language.

It’s hard to know who I am when who I am always swallows me whole.

If my skin is going to crawl, I pray it crawls into safer spaces.

I am learning that most of my fear of others is my own judgment of myself.

It is a valuable thing to learn the difference between who is in your corner and who is in your way.

Let your love be bigger than your anger.