My Fleshy Heart

Sometimes I wish I could just throw up ink onto a page and all my thoughts would be perfectly sprawled out into something beautiful. 
If you could see inside my brain you would see a field of light bulbs glowing in the darkness. 

Peculiar and enthralling. 
But it seems that those light bulbs only glow brightly in the darkness of the inside of my skull and when I try to let them out to shine for others they are dim.
I just want to let life in; let the souls of others touch the fleshy parts of my heart and be uplifted.
It is easy to feel out of my league in a room full of creative brains.
We all want to be independent and different from the crowd with our knit sweaters and whispy hair and yet all we want is to be understood. How do we expect to be understood when we want to be different from everyone else?
The trouble with being unique is that I am still human and I still have the same insecurities that every other teenager does.
I want to be liked by boys. I want to be viewed as talented. I want to be somebody. I want to walk down the hallways and not have to see the word "LOSER" in place of "PROM".
I want to be able to enjoy other's talents and not envy them. I want to be able to except myself for who I am and be proud to be me, even if me is a bump on a log, talentless and useless; I want to be me.
I want to be ok with just being friends.
I want to open up my fleshy heart and accept what comes and love myself for my weaknesses. I want to view my fleshy heart as lovable even when I don't feel loved. 
I am the girl with eraser shavings all over my writing and ink stains on my fingers. I am the girl with messy hair and no make up on. I am the girl that every girl comes to to talk about boys because I am so giggly and I make them feel appreciated and I give them advice and yet I have no real love experience of my own.
Oh, my heart.
Did this make sense to anyone? 
My brain just threw up on this page, except my thoughts didn't exactly sprawl out the way I wanted them too.


fin.