2am; where do I begin,
Crying off my face again.
The silent sound of loneliness
Wants to follow me to bed.

I’m the ghost of a girl that I want to be most.
I’m the shell of a girl that I used to know well.

Dancing slowly in an empty room,
Can the lonely take the place of you?
I sing myself a quiet lullaby.
Let you go and let the lonely in
To take my heart again.

Broken pieces of
A barely breathing story
Where there once was love
Now there’s only me and the lonely.

Lately it’s been a nothing short of a cluster fuck trying to navigate this new life of mine, and this new woman that I’ve subsequently become. It’s hard to know where I fit in with myself. Within my own life.

I’m far from the carefree girl I once was before I found out I was expecting Kamren. I’m not the young lady that I was when I was happily pregnant with him. And I’m certainly not the same woman I was when I gave birth to him and held him close for those 16 days. I’m not quite a shell of any of these people either. I’m an entirely different individual altogether, simply carrying small remnants of each of them within me.

In some aspects this gives me this odd chance to recreate myself, yet again. Or improve upon the old versions of me. That’s probably a better way to word it.

There’s so many options. Choice after choice, of who I can become. Who other people unwittingly suggest I become.

So what happens if I want to become the one who just doesn’t belong here?

And suppose I don’t want to be the girl that hides, from this loss & this life? I see so many women walking this same journey, who do just that. It’s been casually suggested time after time to me. Just move here, come with us. We’ll take care of you. You don’t need to do anything. You don’t need to think, etc.

 But what if I want to go my own way? Figure out this life for myself and navigate my own journey? Become my own Hercules. I think that’s the plan. In this current moment at least. But who knows. It may change 10 more times before the next hour hits.