I was fourteen when I realized
I have oceans to wring from my hair
in the form of words.
It hadn't clicked
that I could form stars on paper until after
my friends started to leave
and I grew lonely
But sometimes, the best things come from the worst times.
My pink journal was the first.
The first to experience my fragile attempts
at forming emotions on a page.
It all started when I noticed
I'm not very good at being vocal.
However, my voice carries on paper.
So, I wrote.
I never shared the things I wrote
because my emotions wrote for me;
I felt like I was exposing myself.
But now, I realize
that if all the other things I've got fall away,
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