Writing

-- free would,

& all the spiraling connotations that come

in the afterthoughts of it, the explanations,

the tin bucket full of pieces with bark still on

for no one wants something they could've had. 

Sometimes i have to remind myself to breathe 

I have to remind myself i am worth loving 

I have to remind myself that one bad day doesn’t define me

Who was I before the world told me who to be?

Who was I before I started changing for people?

Who am I when I have so many versions of myself I've let down?

Dancing, leaping, twirling

Gracefully,

Effortlessly,

Perfectly.

But beneath it all

Is

Bruises 

Pain

Twisted ankles

Broken bones

Disappointment

Practice

Learning

A snowy slope

Dark green trees

Snow pelting my goggles 

I’ve never seen anything so beautiful,

Yet I’ve never been so afraid.

I look at the steep slope before me

Take in a big breath

My name is Leah, I’m 12, and I’m weird. My mom says it’s not me, it’s just everyone else and they’re still growing up, but if I’m the odd one out, I’m pretty sure it’s just me.