Another World

There’s a world, somewhere outside this one. 

A world where nobodies hurt, but we’re all so fucking sorry. 

A world where we don’t need to hide our sharp edges. 

We can scream and our voices won’t get shot.

We can cry and nobody tries to wipe away our tears with clumsy fingers that poke us in the eye. 

We can crumble under the weight of our own mistakes and nobody tells us that the weight is imaginary. 

Because it’s a goddamn insult to say we didn’t/don’t know any better. 

You can hate yourself and that’s okay.

Nobodies going to hate you back. 

You can love yourself and that’s okay.

Hopefully somebody loves you back. 

You do deserve love. You know that, don’t you? 

And it’s all okay. 

And we’re all sorry. 

And we’re all just wondering why we decided to make moves the way we did in the first place. 

“Making moves” is bullshit anyway.