The missing pages

I open up easily. People have torn me apart and I still open up. Sometimes too much and sometimes when I don’t even want to. I wonder how quiet people learned to be quiet. I wonder how people that have it together function. I honestly think it’s focusing on something that matters. It’s almost as if they have no time to think about themselves. I’ve had a million minutes to think of myself. It hasn’t been bad but it has been painful. It has given me a false sense of who I am. Except when I read or those brief winds that hit me and allow me to present myself as I am.

My kryptonite is when I meet an object of my affection. I want them to accept completely who I am, and so I start writing my story according to what I think they’d like. Recently, for the past four months, I have discovered there are missing pages in my book. I still do not know completely what they are, but they’re missing. Until I don’t write or find those missing pages, I cannot figure out how to be with someone. I’m not saying it’s impossible but I’m saying that these pages are the priority.

If I don’t look for them, fight for them or create them…who will?

We all have missing pages and we all have a puzzle to complete but we’re too busy sometimes living the life we think we should, we forget to fully find ourselves. I am honestly tired. I’m tired of chasing ghosts. I’d like to believe I shouldn’t instead of thinking that there’s something wrong with me and that’s why I cannot seem to catch them. I’d like to believe it’s better to stop and work on my beauty than search for someone else’s. I have bloomed slowly, too slowly. But I have bloomed. And now it’s time to continue growing and try to leave a mark in this world. I cannot let others stop me, not even those I feel I cannot live without. I want to feel invincible and peaceful. I want to choose the path of least resistance and then hopefully be able to find those missing pages and carry on without a doubt.

Maybe if I create a world of my own, the real one will start making sense. Maybe only until I find something that I’m looking for, someone will find me and I won’t have to end up alone after all. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that I look, find, and create these missing pages. I can feel their presence. They had been missing for a while but I didn’t want to listen to them. Now I have and they are crucial in my development. I hope to find them soon and become whom I’ve always wanted. Let’s go and look now, it’s time. The tiny little pages wait for no one, not even for their owner. Wait too long and they’ll fly away forever, never to be found.