Writing

One of the first songs

I learned to play

Was

"The Streets of Laredo".

I remember this

With all the other songs in that book

Too.

Now, it is

In my closet

Broken

The cover falling off

“Hey! Congrats, you finished! Would you like to see how far you’ve come?”

“Finished? What do you mean finished? It’s barely been a week, are you kidding me?”

You are not perfect, and that is okay.

Your best isn’t working yourself to a point where you have to sacrifice your mental health to succeed.

Someone cares about you.

-Can I tell you something?

(I have a secret, and I am dying to tell you.)

     -Yeah, anything.

-I love you.

Perfection- it has taken over the lives of millions of teenagers.

Expectations of perfection from parents, teachers, guardians, random people you've never even met, classmates, friends, and even yourself. 

I step out into a cool summer night 

The air fills my lungs and soothes my anxiety riddled body

I walk out and feel the calm breeze on my torn up skin, wrapping around me like it's comforting my wounds