Does it really help?
Telling yourself constantly
That you can only live
Does the idea that nobody
Is ever really connected to you,
And that in some cases,
Man really is an island
Not deserted, but peaceful and self-thriving?
Does it help to think that
When you’re alone,
The only person who will always be there
And you can only speak for yourself,
Eat for yourself,
Just do shit for yourself,
Because most of us leave the world
In single caskets
And we will only be left with ourselves
When the world comes crashing down.
I need to learn to grow my own garden.
Plant my own goddamn seeds.
Water my own roots.
I need to stop thinking that
I am contingent to others
Or that I don’t deserve love
Unless it’s given to me.
I need to learn to fall in love with myself;
To be brave,
To be fearless,
There’s nothing wrong
With thinking I’m pretty enough
Or clever enough
And I sure as hell am not
Going to wait for someone
To tell me these things;
Like my garden isn’t worthy
Unless watered by someone else.
I’ll love my damn self.
And this is where all love should start.
I wonder how many stranger’s stories we make it into? You know, maybe someone saw you in passing and told their friends about how pretty the girl in the lavender sweater was. Or maybe they overheard you say a joke and repeated it to their friend, confessing that they heard it from some guy at the store.