Sometimes it seems like the only things that change about me are my age and my will. Do people with the darkest pasts really have the brightest futures?

I know that I like my bacon a little crispy, but eggs are definitely not my thing. I know I love poetry; it's how my soul escapes. I love silly things that make me seem childish, but who cares? And occasionally, I find solace in a gentle puff of sweet green smoke.

I know that I'm the biggest crybaby on the face of this earth, yet I'd stand and let it rain hell on me if it meant others didn’t have to feel any pain.

I love music; when I hear it, I feel no pain. I can close my eyes and see a song like it was a movie. I sing off-key and dance in solitude, liberated by the rhythm's embrace.

I like my home warm in the winter and a ton of blankets to get lost in while my thoughts keep my groggy eyes from slumber.

I wonder every time I look up at the clouds if there is really a place called heaven. If there is, I hope I can make it there.

I will never stop learning; as my body ages, my heart grows heavier as the world gets harder to cope with. I want to shut the world out, but I can't help it; I love to love.

I love those who are broken and lost, the ones that society says there is no “fix” for. The ones who find their own way, and even the ones waiting to die on a lonely street. My heart breaks for them because broken is all too familiar to me, and broken hurts like hell.

At the end of the day, all I can be is me. I am not perfect, but I will never stop trying to be the best version of me. I'd rather be me than anyone else; my scars are deep, but I go on. Fake does not exist in me. It’s just not my style.

I will continue to believe everything happens for a reason, and that there is always a rainbow, even after the worst storms.

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