So, I took a long look in the mirror.

It's safe to say I didn't like what I saw.

A girl wearing a mask.

The mask was beautiful, decked in pearls and heart sequins and positivity

But the thing is, just because you put on a mask, it doesn't make what's underneath go away.

Under that mask lived self-doubt. A girl struggling to match up to the high standards that she insisted on setting herself. A heart that had been given away and abused and returned feeling more cracked and worn every time. Sadness that swam in the depths of her baby-blues and hid in the corners of her trembling lips. A lack of confidence that she thought she could cover up by being overly bubbly.

She surrounded herself with people who liked the mask, who fell for the charade.

But this girl didn't know how blessed she truly was because all the while she was applying layer after layer of her fake positivity, there were real people in her corner.

People who saw the mask for what it was.

And they spoke words to her that made her mascara run

She took the mask off to make sure she didn't get makeup on it, to wipe away any visible weakness.

But as she stood in front of the mirror, dabbing her face, she saw her faults and her short-comings, and something washed over her.

Anger, shock.

Who the hell was she to not love everything about her?

She was alive and breathing, and this negativity was weighing down her soul when all she wanted was to be happy.

Her mask, her prized possession, crumbled in her hands and its dust fell through her fingers.

She watched in wonder and love as the words that her people spoke to her floated through her head and reflected in her eyes, reflected in her mirror.

I took a long look in the mirror.

And I loved what I saw.

A girl recognizing her worth. A real smile manifesting in her eyes and her heart and on her lips. A girl who loved everything and meant it. A girl who loved herself.

I still have days where I look in the mirror and see spots of doubt and negativity.

But now, I don't wear a mask to cover them.

I look at them, and I thank them for giving me the opportunity to grow.

And I grow.

roses are red, my heart was blue

that was before

i didn't need you

my tears were clear, my future's gold,

cause i'm moving foward

letting go of the old.

hey, boy.

i've sorted through the others

and i pick you.

here's my heart.

i've wrapped it in my passion and tied it with a ribbon of hope.

hey, boy.

i did this once before

when I gave my heart I was asked for a gift receipt.

i know you're different.

you can be the piece to make my life complete.

hey, boy.

third time's the charm.

I'm older and more beautiful and have a lot to offer.

I'm a little awkward but my love makes up for it.

here's the key to my heart

it's a little worn and the lock is a bit rusty

hey, boy.

hey, boy

hey, boy

hey, boy

hey, me.

i have something to say.

stop chasing after people when you can't give yourself the time of day.

build your confidence.

love yourself.

because you have to live with yourself, before anyone else.

hey, me.

i love who I am.

I'm quirky, i laugh a lot, and i'm not fake.

i feel very deeply and that's a blessing.

if you show me you're worthy and that you'll put in the work

I'll give you my love and my time

i used to give my heart to anyone

but now,

my heart is ivy-league.

prove your mettle and you'll do just fine

can i speak for a moment?

can i open up my heart and look inside

and show you too, all the things that reside

there?

can i spill its contents into your hands and

watch it overflow and see where it lands?

can i be real for a moment?

can i say the words begging to be said

can i let it all out and talk till we both see red?

'cause i'm here, in this moment.

and i don't know how many i'll have.

i'm asking but i don't need your permission.

i'm asking out of courtesy.

I twist the ring around my finger, something I do when I’m thinking, or to calm myself down. I can feel the tension gathering in my neck, up and down my spine. Thoughts play tag, my mind a frenzy. I look down at my shoes. Stunning little things, they make my legs look great. I look up at you, sitting across from me. You don’t make me feel great.

My fingers grip the table between us. I take in your appearance. No shirt, smooth chest. Hands wrapped around a half full coffee mug. Stubble brushed across your chin. Full lips pulled down at the corners. Tired brown eyes staring at the table. Tousled hair. Bed hair. But not from our bed.

I take in a deep breath, feeling it make its way to the depths of my lungs. I force it out. I tear my eyes away from you, stopping the tears before they surface. I don’t cry. I loved this apartment. Amazing kitchen, spacious rooms, beautiful art on the walls. I looked at you again. Something else I loved. Two things I can’t love anymore.

“I’ll be moved out by Friday. I’ll be staying at a friend’s until then.” I say the words with conviction. His eyes meet mine. He responds only with a small nod. I fiddle with my ring more. But this time, it’s because I’m slipping it off my finger. I slide it to the middle of the table. “Here.”

I scoot my chair back and stand. Your eyes haven’t left mine. I smooth my dress and turn towards the door, not bothering to push in the chair. My walk is steady but slow. With one hand around the door knob, I turn my head over my shoulder, and meet your eyes again.

“Was it worth it?” The words are bullets and I know it. And they hit him. His eyes are sad. He deserves it, though. It was bad enough that he cheated, but he cheated with her - the girl I'd grown up with. I twist the knob and cross the threshold, leaving my sister's apartment.

i was a little girl once.

i wore my hair in braids, and a flower crown on my head.

i wore pretty dresses and little white mary janes.

i sang everywhere i went.

i had a bounce in my step.

i loved the pretty flowers and finding shapes in the clouds.

i slept deeply and peacefully.

and

i met you.

you were a little boy once.

you liked to wear a little cap.

you wore wrinkled shirts and jeans with self-made rips in the knees.

you shouted everywhere you went.

you ran around.

you loved the toys in shop windows and playing in the mud.

you slept without a shirt.

and

you told me you loved me.

you showed me things, things that you said made you happy.

you taught me how to keep them a secret.

you told me i was a good girl.

i was a little girl then.

you were nineteen.

we slept.

and

i am older now.

i keep my hair cut short and a ink on my skin.

i wear baggy clothes and scuffed sneakers.

i frown everywhere i go.

i don't have a bounce in my step.

i am numb.

i don't sleep anymore.

but

i feel something now.

i feel hate.

i know what you did.

i know that when i set my mind, things happen.

i know where you live.

i know that you better watch your back.

i know what i need to do.

i know you won't hurt anybody else ever again.

i know you won't do anything ever again.

i know i will feel at peace soon.

and

i know i'll sleep when you're dead.

“Lacey, I’m tired of this passive-aggressive attitude. If you would just get over yourself and talk to me, we could fix things.”

“You know what, Jack? I’m transparent. You just have to care enough and actually want to see it.”

“You think it’s ME that doesn’t care enough? It’s like -” He shook his head in disgust, clenching his jaw.

“It’s like what, Jack? What is it like?” I asked in what was undeniably a patronizing tone.

“It’s like you don’t even know what love is anymore!” And that was it. The match that was my anger flared into a full-on bonfire. His words? The gasoline that fueled it.

“I don’t know what love is? Oh, I’ll tell you what love is! Love is compromise. It is putting your priorities on the back burner to help your partner soar, and them for you. Love is surprises, like letters and baked goods and phone calls to check in on your day. Love is knowing that even though physically apart, you’re still together. Love is passion, like intense conversations about each other and your future, and romantic nights, and cuddles in bed. Love is sharing - sharing your memories and your futures and your thoughts and feelings, making one unit instead of two pieces coexisting. Love is acceptance. Acceptance that you are different people who have different goals but work together and support each other to make things happen for one another. Acceptance that you have different pasts, but can work together to make your future happen together. Love is misunderstandings and hurt feelings, because they are what help you grow, and so is love! Love is the water for your garden of life, and just because we’re going through a slightly dry season, it doesnt mean it won’t rain soon. Love is what I feel for you, what I know you feel for me. Love is the reason I know we have things to fix in our relationship. Because I want to fix them. I want to stick with you. You’re my ride or die, Jack, the beating of my heart. The love in my soul and mind. I know what love is, Jack. We are love. Because love isn’t easy. It never has been. But precious things, the things that are really worth it, they are the things you have to work for.”

Jack stood silently, eyes slightly glistening. A simple nod of his head was all that was needed. I folded into his arms, and as he pulled me close, he whispered, “You are what love is.”

p u r e j o y. These are the words I have tattooed on my wrist. Anxiety is suffocating, and so I need a reminder. Anxiety can be slow, creeping. A cat slinking towards prey on its haunches, preparing to launch. Anxiety can be sudden. A rotten step giving way beneath a foot. Either way, anxiety is suffocating. But if life has taught me anything, it is that there are two sides to every coin. Pure joy is exhilirating. Conquering a fear, putting your past behind you. Pure joy is peaceful. Watching the sun rise, colors painting the sky. Pure joy is the word "pure." And it is the word "joy." A darkened stairwell leading up the tallest tower, anxiety. The view of expansive forest meeting with the sea, visible from the tower's only window - pure joy. My fingers slide over the two words, tracing the gentle curves and straight lines in each letter. The ritual in itself is calming, peaceful, joyful. I let it float me above and bring me down to earth at the same time. The action always reminds me of moments, memories filled with the emotion typed above my hand. One of the most intense moments of pure joy for me was first seeing you. My darling girl, you are my heart and soul. As I stroked your brow and held you against my beating heart. As you snuggled closer and our hearts connected. Beating together. Mother, daughter. Two words. Just like pure joy.

you are the exception

conformity

unison

society

all mean the same.

you are the exception,

you write your life.

you are

excepting

acceptance.