The Musings of a Fangirl.

The room is littered with paper covered in chicken scratch.

Words torn from pages torn from notebooks.

Transcribed from the heart in quick panicked motions.

Write them down before you forget.

Don’t lose the words that are in your head because they won’t last long and if they don’t last how will you ever tell her how you feel.

A bleeding pen in a shaking hand belonging to a body that hasn’t slept in days because the demons come knocking.

Creeping.             

Scratching.

Ticking their nails against your skull.

Ripping the tears from your eyes.

The guilt from your mind.

Wrench your soul dry for all it’s worth.

Dive deeper, girl, you know it’s there.

What you need to get by, not scrape by.

Get them out.

Write them down.

Those feelings.

The ones you’ve been hiding from the world.

Masked in poems that no one will read.

Stuffed and hidden in notebooks that no one will see.

Someday you’ll get out from under this rock.

This anxiety that weighs a thousand pounds.

Tied to your ankles.

You’ve got to do something.

Say something.

Feel something.

Something other than the hurt that you harbor.

The fear in your heart so abundant that it could fill a warehouse if you let it.

The worries you have.

The worries that you’re not right in the head like her.

That you’re going to turn out to be just like her.

The woman that you despise.

The one that ruined your life for so many years.

The one you that you might never get away from.

You’re afraid because you don’t want to grow up and start a family because you’re afraid of becoming the kind of mother she was.

You’re scared that your future children will come to resent you for the things that you’ve done, just like you resent her.

It’ll be different, you swear.

No matter what you will never be like her