“Who do you write for? Yourself?”
No.
I write for who I was.
I write for the senseless, inept, confused, and broken kid.
She can’t control her tears.
She always feels alone.
I write for the girl who was too scared to fight.
Whose mind was too closed, and whose mouth was too damn big.
Who ran herself into a corner, and thought she’d never turn around.
I write for all the stupid mistakes and scabbed hearts I left in my destructive past.
I write for the girl who doesn’t understand anything, yet is trying, trying so desperately, but the only thing she’s ever understood is words.
And words are not enough.
I write for who I was.
For everything, and everyone that led me to this road I’m on.
Words were my salvation.
So words are what I give.
(K.N. Clem)