there’s a very real and elaborate world inside me,
a constant and ongoing dialogue,
mountains and mountains of words that for many years I kept to myself

the thing I never knew about my own words,
was that writing and speaking them aloud could help me to see just what I believed in,
in whom I believed,
and set me on a course on which I was meant to be;
sharing helped me find my why

the thing I never knew about my own words, 
is that in sharing them,
they could rescue me

-Image via Tumblr



she’s imperfect in a world that strives for perfection,
instead seeking connection,
while embracing those ill-fitting grooves,
nothing left to prove,
challenging the rerun tapes,
and trashing the old capes

alive in her willingness to be free,
as she

finally able to see with clarity,
who it is she’s meant to be,
exposing her heart,
whole, not just part,
embracing her vulnerability,
and the risk that accompanies

for, that is her true self,
an open book, no longer on the shelf

yet there are days when weighted tears streak the menacing mirror,
when her heart is tired, sadness deeply spearing her

when the looking glass seems transparent,
and others’ stares are overwhelmingly apparent,
when she feels trapped on the inside,
desperate to hide

while others peer in

-image found via Pinterest, artwork by SAUL LANDELL