In the end, how many likes or comments I got means absolutely nothing. Of course, it’s nice to hear encouraging things from people, but it shouldn’t be one of my main priorities. I know in my mind that being jealous and comparing myself not only doesn’t help anything, but it harms myself. It harms the relationships that I have with other people as doubt and insecurity set in.
I’m no longer a little ten year old girl wishing her Mom would come back. I’m not twelve years old, crying into my sister’s shoulder as we looked at their gravestone on Mother’s Day. I’m no longer fifteen, thinking of how things could be a little better if I could hug my Mom or see Shannon’s smile again.
I know loneliness more than I care to admit. I know the struggle of sitting alone with my thoughts and wondering if it’ll ever end. I know the unfulfilled longing to see people and enjoy their company. I know how tough it is to be with just yourself for so long. It’s hard. I know it is.
The correct selection of words
The message of it all
The snapshots of my memory
The feelings to recall
This is my life put into words
This is me fighting
This is a help for those in need
This is my writing