Who am I?

I am black pen ink smudged across all ten fingers

I am fuzzy socks and hot chocolate, bundled up and still feeling cold

I am bookshelves overflowing with stacks littering the carpet

I am caring too much about other people while pretending to be a narcissist

I am laughing only in my head because boys used to say they hated how I sound

I am shaking hands and stuttered words

I am flapper dresses and Gatsby, dancing around my problems

I am concealing my insecurities with sarcasm, but doesn’t everybody?

I am writing stories about people I have never met

I am getting my hopes too high, my expectations too grand

I am being let down by forces I don’t understand

I am wandering in a direction I did not chose

I am picking aesthetics and colors for characters that exist only for me

I am starting projects that I don’t finish

I am causing problems I cannot fix

I am metaphors that exist only in my own head

I am stories that I will never share

I am pictures I will never get rid of

I am memories that do not fade

I am people that ran away from me long ago that I still keep around

I am contacts in my phone that I won’t delete

I am someone who would rather make excuses than face criticism

I am a girl who lives through lines on a page, never knowing who I truly am

I am cherry blossom trees and lavender fields fighting for the sun’s affection

I am high ponytails and bubblegum that lost its flavor long ago

I am roses with the thorns cut off that still stab those who touch them

I am staring at the girl in the mirror and hating who she is

I am a choked up heart with nothing left to give

I am sewing needle legs that won't hold me up anymore

I am not knowing what "smiles don't reach her eyes" means yet living it everyday