shut up, danielle.

it’s embarrassing when i’ve worked my whole life for compliments, still when i get them, i can’t accept one word.

it’s embarrassing it’s another christmas holiday with no one to meet my family.
it’s embarrassing when i leave my house feeling as ugly on the outside as inside.

it’s embarrasing letting a new person in- and starting over again- unraveling yourself.

it’s embarrassing asking the love of your life time and time again for the effort-

it’s even more embarrassing lying to your friends with a manufactured smile with a “he’s great! nothing new.”

it’s embarrassing to come back to a pen and sheet of white paper after years of ?????

it’s embarrassing falling off- in whatever way you want to interpret that- i dont care.

it’s embarrassing to pretend you don’t care when you do, a lot.

it’s embarrassing when jeans are too tight, then too loose, then again and on and on and on.

it’s embarrassing to sit around with an 18 dollar glass of wine and talk about what it means to be an artist- whatever that means??

it’s embarrassing going to bed remembering people perceive you through a tiny screen.

it’s embarrassing noticing a cycle that shows we’re imperfect.

i dont care too much for embarrassment. all of those things are molecules. 

i return home- as i build up the ability to express myself again,

trees are starting to have color, the grass has texture once more.

what creeps in this petty pace is my new roommate; shame. 

now i have to ask this- just to strike a conversation with a friend,

would you rather feel inspired and shameful as the pen dances along the lines of the page or have cement blocks tied to your every cell and a head full of a paradise hallow?

i hate myself that it took so long to be here again.