i scrawl down, for the day
that i am beautiful
that i am small
that i am sunshine and pretty blue dresses and raven birds outside my bedroom window.
i scrawl down
that today is a good day.
hello, i tell my journal.
today i am ugly.
i am huge
i am slashes on my wrists and running mascara and monday mornings.
i scrawl down
that today, today is the /worst/ day.
my hand slips,
the letters have become tangled and angry.
can you read them?
i've written them all over my face.
tangled and angry.
my journal is pretty.
it is wide and blue. inconspicuous.
i stick a post it note to it:
'do not read!'
and no one ever does.
i scrawl down, for the day
that i wish
someone would. |