I wanted to believe.
I no longer believe in the beautiful mirage that was december,
nor the helpless agony that was january.
It never happened.
I must tell myself: I am not diposable. Really.
I must tell myself: I am worthy of love.
Time is the cure.
In time, I will come to breath fire when arrogant boys push me out of their path on the way to the bong.
In time, I will be the one called, not calling at three in the morning out of loneliness and need.
In time, I will respond to attacks not with anger and hurt, but with the knowing smile of one above it all.
In time, all around me will be infused with the love I radiate.
In time, I will be a force to be reckoned with.
The time is now.
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