Kristen Wilson Poet Bio

I'M a Mess

I Am. . .
still alive. I am still thinking, breathing, wishing, and dreaming. I am my own 
mentor, my own hynosis instructor, my own therapist. I am my own person, my 
own. No one else's. No one controls me. No one commands me. I am ME.

I know exactly what I want. I know who I am. A broken heart means nothing 
anymore. Bleeding sorrow has become just a small sidestep of everyday life; it 
means nothing. No matter what happens now, I can never again be whole. I can 
never again be broken in such a way that breathing is impossible. No matter; I 
can breathe now. 
 
I am it. I am special, strong, beautiful, confident, and my own person. No one 
else means anything to me; I am totally alone. No one can help anymore. No 
human being alive can put me back together again. I do not want to be whole. 
Whole pieces end up more broken than before. Broken pieces don't have to 
worry about getting broken, for they already are. I like being broken. Being broken 
is not a crime. Being alone is not a crime. I am on my own: perfectly ruined, 
perfectly broken, perfectly used, rusted, cracked, and pained. Perfectly dusty, 
scratched, beaten, and crumbled. In a perfect sense,

i'm a mess.

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