Reid@YWP

Love is a paradoxical thing. 

I want desperately to be loved. 

I want to wake up to a "good morning, my favorite person" text. 

I want the last thing I see at night to be a little red heart emoji. 

I want to tell you  I love you 

I love you and your smiles

Your voice even though I’m still learning your language

The way your hands hold things 

A basketball 

Your sisters hand 

Once, there was a little girl.

She was around 7 years old at the time,

and lived with her mother and father

in a little red house, in a little green forest.

They made chicken soup on their little stove 

Last night at work, I had a bit of a panic attack. Something like that, something similar. You don’t really know while you’re in it, why it happens, but the reasons were there, and I know them now. 

When I’m upset,

I like to come out here,

This place I would like to weave,

Where I can sit on the rocks

With my feet in the water,

With the sun dancing across the ripples,

Where my heart can be the shore,

The current ongoing erasing of the rights of marginalized groups in society deeply affects the people all around, as well as myself.