day 7 [10:52 am | 13th February 2018] mother the self

i don’t have a beginning or an end where i can begin this and i am repeating myself in my head, telling myself i don’t know where to start this.

i am very afraid to write, afraid to be vulnerable. i have always, mostly written to someone, written for someone and never for the self.

i’ve been afraid really, most of life.

though times are changing now. as i listen to damien rice, i am more than inspired with just his voice, the write fearlessly.

oh! the splits i hold within. i dream to write fearlessly but then i have only been a coward for the past twenty two years. (i am not so angry with myself as i sound in my words) i am angry though, with my younger self, with the world that my younger self experienced.

but anger, anger is pointless. i cannot be angry with tanzim, its not his fault. i have to forgive and accept to allow him to grow as a person.

its not your fault that you have felt this overwhelming lack of affection for your whole life. its not your fault. its not your fault that you have felt your void gnawing and scratching your skin.

oh dear! its not your fault.

i know the emptiness has been tormenting.

its not your fault still.

i know there have been consequences. your cycle of unrequitted, of your ex-lovers who have never loved you enough.

the truth is, perhaps, look i am just guessing, that you have only reached out to those who were never available.

because you have been afraid of love. of attachment. for you have never really known love, you have never felt deeply loved. and i know that feels like autumn on your skin without any sign of sun.

but love, learn to love yourself.

love yourself.


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