pleasefindthis's Blog: Written On The Side Of The Page , page 2

You took my tongue, and so I wrote about love.

There’s room in a starlit hotel for the people you miss tonight.

(I didn’t want to be good, I just wanted to be here.)

So you touch the star that only you can touch and cause the fuss that only you can cause.

(I am making things that don’t need to be made, to be sold to people that don’t need to be sold anything, anymore.)

And If you hold me I swear, I won’t shake too bad, I’ll try and be a little more calm.

(But I’m burning inside, just like the sky.)

What’s good, isn’t great, and who are you pretending to miss tonight?

(There’s no one and nothing left to cry about, so why don’t you go ahead and cry a little more about yourself.)

Some empty part of me heard you knocking from the other side of the universe, and I answered.

You are looking for the quiet, late at night in secret small places that only you can call your own.

You are looking for the place that only belongs to you, after everyone else has gone to sleep, as you fight the nightly battle between getting enough sleep, and getting enough time.

You are looking for yourself and I want you to know, it doesn’t matter if you find you.

It only matters that you look.

It’s ok to not what to do what you always do.

 It’s ok to want to be anyone else but you.

It’s ok to forget why you started in the first place.

It’s ok to not obey the rules you’ve made for yourself.

It’s ok to feel like a failure for not obeying those rules.

It’s ok to forget that how you feel is not how the rest of the world feels. 

It’s ok to walk around and squint in bright light.

It’s ok to hit the keys harder than you need to.

 It’s ok to find a small, secret space and say the things you need to say.

It’s ok not to have someone that’ll tell you it’s ok.

It’s ok to tell yourself that it’s ok.

 It’s ok not to be ok.

You have this fantasy that by giving up, you will succeed. That just as you finally give up, everything will somehow work itself out, that people will respond to some kind of humanness in your act of giving up.

But that’s not what’s going to happen. You're just going to give up, not as a performative act, not as a way to showcase your humanity, just because you simply cannot be the character you’ve played for as long as you have.

You are not redeeming yourself.

You are simply giving up.

No rising sun.

No blinding light.

This is love:

To let someone else
hold your hand in the dark
and guide you out of yourself
and to be willing to let that happen
again, and again, and again.

I was honoured to write this poem to announce the discovery of The Okavango Blue, the largest and rarest blue diamond, ever discovered.

If you do not make time for yourself every single day, literally give yourself time to do nothing, your body will take all the time you owe it, all at once.

And you will sit there, on the side of your bed, and you will cry and say under your breath between sobs,

“What is wrong with me?”

But you are not weak and there is nothing wrong with you.

You have just forgotten to give yourself time.