“Fragments”

Twenty-two.
And one year ago, everything was mixed.
And you were confused,
And you fought with yourself,
And you didn’t trust yourself.
But then—then you were ecstatic!
There was a hint of ridiculous happiness in your eyes,
That which makes you grin like an idiot
And your heart flutter.

It will be difficult.
They are not accepting.

Twenty-nine.
You think it will be fine,
For you are honest,
Sincere.
And you are.
You are.
But then—then words gut you.
Your path does not lie this way.
I can see you sick,
in a bed,
dead.

You chose this.

Thirty-first.
You can’t move.
You are angry,
And threatened,
And scared.
You want to sit in a corner and cry,
But more than that,
Walk without thought or direction.

But you are paralyzed.
You need help.
You will go to Capestrano.
You will change.

But that’s not what you need.
You need to breathe,
To regain expectations you once had.

Is this what would become of you?

First.
You don’t care anymore.
Everything goes on and on,
Like endless circles.
No argument is ever productive,
I’s just a whole lot of bullshit.
“Pain is temporary”, you say to yourself,
And you had never felt so miserable,
So alone.

You did the honest thing.
In the end, you will be right.

Eighteenth.
It’s been a while.
Was sit even worth it?
You learned a lot.
You suffered,
You cried,
You pushed your friends away out of fear,
But you learned.
You learned that the value of a person’s words,
The weight they carry,
Is immense.

You know.

Fifteenth.
You have grown.
You still see them,
But they do not have the power to hurt you.
Not anymore.
And you laugh,
And you smile,
And you finally talk,
you say, “Happy Pride.”

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