all the pics I haven’t posted

No one knows what I don’t post. No one knows I wore knee high boots with the plaid mini skirt and felt like a goddess of war. No one knows that I wore a pink Oscar de la Renta slip dress and felt like a goddess of love. No one knows that when I am wide awake at 3am I feel like a goddess of death. No one knows I cluck at the ravens in a not-totally-futile-but-definitely-sad attempt to befriend them. No one knows I didn’t sleep for 3 days and Chris drove me to the Hollywood Mental Health Center only to be turned away and subsequently sobbed for 3 hours. No one knows that I ate the perfect plum on my balcony at golden hour, startled by the palm tapping on my back like an old friend. No one knows that I keep the windows open and do backbends to feel my hair in the breeze, to remind myself of what it was like to swish my hair in the swimming pool in an attempt to feel a semblance of summer when surrounded by concrete. No one knows how much I think about God. No one knows how I feel like no single person is to blame for any one thing. No one knows how hard it is for me to eat sometimes. No one knows how hard it is for me to stop eating sometimes. No one knows how my heart aches for every child who is in the care of an old child who was in the care of an older child who was neglected. No one knows how I feel like every tree is my mom. No one knows how beautiful the soap bubbles look floating in my shower. No one knows I took the long way home through the canyon to watch the full moon rise. No one knows how hard it is to feel worthy when you weren’t worth it for your dad to stop drinking. No one knows how a well-placed sun beam can bring a tear to my eye. No one knows how fresh paint feels like spring. No one knows how much I dance in my car. No one knows how I shoot love from my heart to every person I see. No one knows what I don’t post.