May I love my own life.
May I meet words on my tastebuds no one else can touch.
May I contain every secondhand feelings in a jar, only bringing it out when I feel safe.
May I feel warmth from the sun and infinity in the skyline to remind me this is my life -
that I want for myself.
To remember that I, in anyone else’s eyes, is just that. A vision.
Pieced together by assumption and sympathy but I do not feel what you think I do.
No, the world doesn’t see the pain I have in me, they can’t feel it.
It’s old and dusted, vague and quite personal.
But wow is it a gift for me to harbor such grief none other can describe.
These people, they are my out of body experience.
I feel important just for that.
I am not unwanted I am untouchable, and I’ve learned to move on my two feet towards what is best for me.
because your visions are not my realities.