Little miss. I need reassurance.
Little miss why doesn’t anyone love me.
Little miss. I can’t trust myself.
Little miss insecure.
Little miss can’t be loved.
Little miss hopeless romantic.
Little miss doesn’t care but cares the most.
Little miss ready to go. 

Why is this my reality? I’m tangled in a fuming cloud of disparate and needy bullcrap that makes me feel even worse. 

I love the idea of being cared for but I always feel like no one cares. But knowing and hearing sweet words makes me feel guilty. 

My life still seems to feel quite meaningless at times even if I know what or whom I want to be. 

But is “whom or what I want to be” even still myself? Or is it another painting scribbled with trauma and heartbreak waiting to be pitied and then hated? 

I love the rain.
I love the moon.
I love the color of the blue sky after the sun goes down.
I love nature and trees.
I love bittersweet coffee and bittersweet music. 

I love the feeling of what love could be but I hate wanting it knowing it feels impossible. 

And now it seems that I love being sad. But what do I do? I can’t help it. There’s no medication I’m just going to be given if it’s not needed. 

And why live my life with soft slippers and grippy Socks just to feel even more unneeded and alone?

I care for everything I’m interested in deeply… 

Saying this vague statement might be confusing but I mean everything big and small. But I feel like none of it likes me back. 

Like no matter how many times I want to dive into how much I’m interested in something common or unique or “normal” I just get shut off. 

And then all my thoughts judge themselves and each other in a long war of confusion. 

I know who I am. But do I? 

Oh right…

“Little miss” everything all at once.