And just for thought...
The pages of my life slowly recite my own words,
a drama here and a laugh there.
It is hard to believe I have already traveled so far.
My own thoughts appear foreign to me.
Here is the time I cried for him to stay
and the time when I laughed when he walked away.
My cries of misunderstandings and failed justices,
I see where these pages have brought me.
A few thousand cigarettes later and I am still drifting on a page.
I wonder how I will feel reading this at the end of my life.
Will the words I write now become undecipherable?
It does not bother me that some will think this all nonsense,
ramblings of a young girl on the edge of womanhood,
thoughts of a grown woman with even less of a clue.
I once read about a woman who lost her life and her children found her journals.
Did her words bring her back to them?
The empty pages get smaller.
My words will grow,
regurgitating who I once was and who I will eventually become.
At the end of the day, I'm just a girl who has been in love with writing her entire life. I am full of quirks, anxieties, fears, joys, laughter. And all I have wanted to do was give the world a smile.