Thinking

Today I thought about how I was always thinking
what could be better in me
slimmer, shiner
like what other people have.

If my days could be more meaningful
I would fill them up
with realised dreams
and good wishes.

There's something about New Year.
It makes you think about
everything you've done
and everything you've
not yet become.

Two sides of me toil
in bitter silence
tugging at each other
like melted tar.

I want to be a writer

"I want to be a writer". This thought has been in my head since I started reading books. I loved reading, I loved writing. Then I got older. I started using words to hurt myself. To write about how much I wasn't. And I lost faith. 

It went something like this:

The world: Everyone wants to be a writer

Me: You're not special, you're not talented, you'll never make it.

The world: Filled with literary genius, people who can create 

Me: Still scrawling how much I hate myself on to a page 

The world: There will always been someone better

Me: You're not good enough. Never will be 

The thing that I have only just come to realise is this: I am a writer. I have written for as long as I can remember and no-one can take that away from me. Now those words, ones I wrote in the midst of an ill-understood pain, help me realise how much I hated myself, how not ok it was and how far I have come. The help me to understand I wasn't just a moody teenager. I didn't just eat too much or not eat at all. I wasn't unattractive and horrible. I was just extremely good at pushing everything good away. 

I am a writer.