I know now that the tears came not from the event leading up to me hugging my arms around my friend, but the hug itself. How honest and pure it was, like when we were young, but how it was accompanied with a pain and piercing grief that is held within him permanently, and how that saturation of grief overwhelmed an act of purity that used to comfort anything.
I think of you. I do.
I think of you every day.
I wonder how we got this way.
I wonder if we'll be okay.
I should have had you stay.
I should have known what to do.
I don't like tans.
I like dresses.
I never wear them.
I don't like my hair long.
My hair is always long.
I can't style it at all.
I try too hard to be someone else.
I don't put enough effort in myself.
I'm never satisfied.
I don't wear makeup.
I'm not bothered by that.
My boyfriend likes it that way.
I never call him that.
I don't know why.
It kind of freaks me out, I guess.
I'm starting to realize some things.
I want to make some changes.
I want to become myself.
I want to hear of my potential
and actually smile in agreement.
I don't want to have doubts anymore.
I want to write without an audience.
I want to have readers.
I want to be in love anyway.
I want to be honest again.
I want the Lord back in my life.
I know He never left.
I want to be headed the right way.
I need to be headed the right way.
I hope I'm headed the right way.
I am Emily.
Hear me roar.