It happens to everyone as they grow up. You find out who you are and what you want, and then you realize that people you’ve known forever don’t see things the way you do. So you keep the wonderful memories, but find yourself moving on.
I am more than: my relationship status. My job. My age. My sexuality. My degree or lack of. My last name. My appearance. My gender. My sex. My short comings.
I am: rusted thoughts. A bloody tongue. Every city I have breathed in. Every bedroom I have loved in. Piles of words. Twisted metaphors. My thoughts. My actions. My dreams.
And I am not looking to be loved. I am looking to be seen.