So what if I’m a mess.
So what if my “flawed” skin is a terrain of acne and wrinkles and scars. Messages left behind in the form of moles and pockmarks, bumps and bruises; Life’s little hellos and Time’s reminders.
So what if I wear a lot of makeup. Or none at all. My skin is a canvas for the art I wear day after day.
So what if i care too much. Too invested for you to handle.
So what if I don’t want to care. Too tired to put in the effort.
So what if my anger is an eternal inferno, impossible to douse. Even when it sleeps, it stills burns.
So what if my passion is a lightning storm; striking randomly, without warning. Catching everyone and myself by surprise.
So what if my sobs shake the earth and flood mountains. So torrential it sweeps you off your feet, pulling you along.
So what if I’m as distant as the arctic and twice as cold. Nothing but ice and biting winds, howling to drown it all out.
So what if you don’t understand me.
So what if I lay in the park, dew-soaked grass seeping into my back, the sun barely kissing the grayscale sky; and I lose myself in this moment of silence.
So what if in the Universe’s grand scheme I don’t matter. So what if I’m “not enough”. So what? I’m alive. I’m here. I’ll make it matter.