If you ever fall down,

think of yourself

as a waterfall.

My freedom came
when I stopped reflecting myself —
and started seeing the mirror.

Not to judge.
Not to fit in.
But to face the gaze
no one else dares to hold.

What you see
is what you want.
Not necessarily what’s true.

But look deep —
deep into the eyes of the mirror.
Inside… is truth.
Not the kind you polish.
Not the kind you sell.
Only the kind you carry —
or burn from denying.

Socrates whispered:

“Do you know who you are?”
Lucifer answered:
“Now he does.”

And I smiled.
Not because I liked what I saw,
but because I finally dared to see it.

Step 1: Smile.
Step 2: Forget why.
Step 3: Keep your voice steady
when your soul is not.
Step 4: Pretend it’s fine.
(Everyone else is.)

Step 5: Fold your feelings
into paper birds.
Set them loose.
Watch them burn mid-air.
Clap softly.
Repeat.

There is no final step.
You just keep going
until you don’t know
what breaking feels like anymore.

Why do I love
so hard,
so deeply,
when I know
it’s only going to hurt me more?

When I know
it’ll just tear open
old wounds—
make the scars bleed
all over again,
like they do
every time I care,
every time I love.

It always ends the same:
with me feeling
like I’ll never be enough,
like I’ll never be the one
they truly want.

Just a maybe.
The one who loved
too hard,
too deeply.
Who smiled through the day,
and let her eyes bleed
through the night.

Cold.
Unheld.
No warm arms
to wrap around her,
to whisper,
"You are enough"
"You matter"
"You mean something"

But those words never came.
Just silence.
Just pain.
And more scars—
fresh,
red,
and aching.