I was trying so hard to look pretty,
That I stopped wearing my glasses,
even though I couldn’t see.

I stopped getting excited about
small things,
Only because you thought they were cheesy.

I loved you so much, even if you couldn’t see,
That I posted the things you liked on social media,
Just so you would notice me.

The more I loved you, the more
I drowned myself in this sea,
Hoping that one day you would find me,
And bring me out to your land full of breeze.

You excluded me yet again, but
this time I didn’t feel uneasy.
Maybe a moment with myself is
just what I need.

I was so afraid,
Not that you wouldn’t love me back,
But of not having you beside me.
So much that when I lost you,
I felt free.

I have so much love to give,
But no one to receive.
So maybe I’ll begin,
By giving it to me.

Paris, November 8, 2024 

 

What makes me feel most alive is being me:
Not changing myself.
Not pretending to know something I don’t.
Being dumb and embracing it. Trying new things.
Being weird, being loud, being crazy. Listening to songs others wouldn’t even think of listening to. Not being afraid to embarrass myself in public.
Not being afraid to express my opinions.
Not caring if people judge my clothes or my style.

But for a long time, I didn’t feel that way. I’ve always wanted to fit in, to be liked. I’ve often felt different—
not in a way that felt good, but isolating. My choices, my interests, the way I see the world—
none of it ever seemed to align with what was “normal.”
So, I tried to mould myself into something more acceptable.
I forced myself to like what others liked, to act in ways that weren’t truly me, just so I could belong.
What makes me feel most alive is trying to move on from my past.
Not hating myself.
Forgiving myself for the mistakes I’ve made.
Not regretting my decisions.
Understanding that I’m just human.
Being kinder to myself.

This poem is a plea—a desperate need for acceptance.
I spent so much time trying to be the version of myself that I thought others wanted, drowning in expectations, hoping someone would pull me out.
What makes me feel most alive is accepting myself—before I expect the world to. Having myself beside me.
Not giving up on myself like others sometimes do.
Honouring myself.
Walking away from places where I don’t belong.
Leaving behind situations where I’m disrespected.
I don’t want to pretend anymore.
If people judge me, mock me, or try to change me, that’s fine.
They can leave just as easily as they entered.
Because I want to be surrounded by those who love me for who I am, not for who they want me to be.

And if that means standing alone, so be it.
My younger self would be proud of me.
I will still be me.
I will still be happy.