I enjoy the darkness inside of me. I appreciate how ugly feelings turn into dark lines on bright screens, blue ink on white paper, words with black hues in the darkness of a lonely room.
So why do I like writing about it?
I like getting it out. I like that it feels like therapy to get it out of me, to slap the world in the face with the broken pieces of within me and see what it does with them.
If it cuts itself on the sharp edges or finds a way around them.
I like feeling cleansed after the darkness is out.
That's why I never wrote about you. At least I think so.
Because I don't want to get any of this out, because it's mine, not theirs to see or judge or witness.
It's mine and it's ours and it's so much more beautiful than my ugly, shattered pieces of chunks of poetry mixed with bits of the closest thing to a soul I believe in.
They can have the dark chapters, I don't want them anymore. I don't want to hold on to them anymore.
They can have the dark chapters, I don't want them taking up any space inside of me.
I want my body to flourish with thoughts of you. With this sweetness I didn't actually believe existed.
I think about you so much that I'm worried my brain is accidentally on replay mode instead of shuffle.
I know yours is on shuffle.
If I write about you -
About us -
It will be this.
My fears and worries that keep me up at night.
The insecurities I forgot I had until you pointed them out.
It'll be ugly and dark and hurt.
And once all that is out, I can go back to experiencing a world I don't want to write about.
Which is new to me.