Dear Diary

I am told that sometimes the best poem doesn’t need music or a picture and mostly because we are the poem. We carry our scars, our lies, our hurt and our pain. Sometimes silence and letters ..make up who we are.

Today I’m here to tell you that this is my diary and for all to read. Something about strangers reading this virus family gives me comfort. Something about exposing my naked truths to people sets me free.

Im here to tell you about how I post certain poems and I know certain people read them. I’m here to tell you that I’m glad that you do.

Because if once you never felt pretty..I want you know I did too.
And that sometimes you feel lonely even if your in a room full of people. 

And I’m going to continue to use And in sentences because fuck you..

This is my diary and I’m not afraid to hurt your feelings because you weren’t afraid to hurt mine! 

Something about strangers reading this virus family gives my comfort.

You must feel some kind of comfort too if you find yourself here wondering if I wrote about you again..

I write about everybody
& Yes I’m doing fine.
Sometimes silence and letters ..make up who we are.

Today I’m happy but not happier. Today I write, tomorrow you read. Because anything beats crying on a dirty bathroom floor. 

Dear Diary, hey look my picture.