Stars.

I can’t wait to see the stars in your eyes. I know you are going to shine so bright.

You are going to be a fire.. but not the kind that destroys. You will be a fire that heals. You’re going to be the brightest star.

I hope I will make you proud.

Bump.

You’re just a small bump. You’re growing every day while you wait to meet the world. I haven’t met you yet, but I love you more than you will ever be able comprehend.

You cause me stress.

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Trophies.

I talk about my faults like they’re awards I got in high school because sometimes I feel like I have nothing else interesting to say.

I have a need for people’s attention and my frequent pity parties are how I get it.

I have these scars on my body that are like trophies of all the battles I’ve won. I think showing these to people will make them like me – or at least pity me enough to pretend to like me.

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Growth.

When I was younger, my father would make me stop to think about what I was saying so that I wouldn’t stutter so much. Now I’m in my twenties and my dad isn’t here to tell me to slow down. So sometimes my head goes too fast and my mouth can’t keep up. My dad isn’t here to tell me to think before I speak. So now I say things and sometimes I’m not even sure what I said or why I said it.

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