Letting Go

I always need to be in control. My life needs order. I like order.

Even numbers.
Numbers with repeating digits.
Predictable events.
Sturdy, safe people.

But even with all this order around me, this uniformity that I've come to find comfort in, I still find myself in a tizzy. I'm a mess, I realize. On the inside I'm drowned with chaos.

And maybe I like it.
Maybe I don't wanna be perfect.
I'm only 16.
I need time, and space.

I need to grow, and make mistakes. And how dare I impose myself upon people that have their shit together? How could I live with myself?

How do I live with myself
When all these admirable people
Lovable beyond compare,
Love and admire me?

It isn't right. And their love is weighty with pressure. I feel as though I've been put on a pedestal by you. You're killing me.

Can't you see it?
The air up here is way too thin.
I can see you,
But I'm lonely here.

It isn't at all your fault, nor is it your problem. I'm climbing of the pedestal because it's something I have to do.

I step down
Look around,
See your face.
I've disappointed you.

But I can't climb back up. And I can't turn back time. And your eyes don't know my new face. Where does this leave us?

You cannot help.
You've done enough.
I'm off the pedestal.
I'm still alone.

Let me.
Alone.
Let me.
On my own