Itching

I’m itching.

Two xyzals in and it’s not gone

I am thankful for where I am

But I feel insecure

I’ve worked hard to not feel that way

My identity has been confidence

But I’m reminded of the things I’ve not yet experienced

I want to, but I’m afraid

Is it too late for them? For me?

It’s only been a few days, but I feel as though I’m behind

Will people like me enough? Or will I fade into the scenery?

The play between my past and future

Whether someone comes and goes turns me fiberglass

When I like it when I’m alone

But only when no one else is around to be alone with

Surely, I’m not alone?

Surely others are feeling the same as I, if not more so?

My skin needs to toughen

Why would I think I’m not as pretty as I thought when I don’t get the reaction I’d think?

Or pick myself apart when I think I’ve said too much of something I’d regret

I need to trust myself, not overthink

And as I scratch the hives that form from self-deceit

I’ll remember who I am and how I should handle my soul with respect

Hold my head high and remember I am a force to be reckoned with