building a large spiky fence between me and that shriveled punk who calls herself "who I was three years ago"

you're not the same person that you used to be. 

and you take comfort in the fact that no, 

you're not the same person and 

she felt things more colorful than the things you feel, 

and sometimes those colors, 

hurt, 

you are not the same person that you used to be, 

and thank god because she couldn't 

look in the mirror without thinking she needed 

to be punished for what she saw

you're not the same person that you used to be, 

because she preferred purple, but you like yellow, 

because yellow is sunshine and happy and love and 

everything else she was afraid to feel.

she burried herself in black and blue. 

you are not the same person anymore, 

she stood on a balcony for an hour 

and looked down and it, 

was a long, long way down, 

but it was even further up and she knew 

which direction she'd choose. 

but so do you. 

you're not that person anymore, 

that fear filled falling mess was afraid of hair 

on her legs, and softness in her stomach, 

she was scared of being far too much, 

taking up so much more space that she was meant to, 

and so are you, 

but you know now 

that not being afraid of yourself is 

an uphill battle that you're willing to fight every day, 

and you know, 

that being afraid is not a weakness, 

you're not the person that you used to be 

because she thought life was meaningless just

because it happens to end with death, 

and you know that it isnt death that makes life meaningless, 

its a million other things that don't matter

because you don't need meaning to have beauty. 

you're not the person that you used to be 

because she thought love was something that belonged 

to people more beautiful that her 

and you are so in love with her. 

you are not the person that you used to be, 

and telling yourself that over, and over, and over again 

because you're afraid that you might be wrong is 

not pathetic. 

it's proof. 

This poem is about: 
Me

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