Rule number one of writing a book:
Make sure you start off with a really good hook.
That title was... well, a real shameful try.
But how else can a dusty journal catch your eye?
Welcome back, friend. It's been a long time,
And I know you don't love the verse and the rhyme.
You went five long years without cracking me open,
And now we can talk--like I've been alone hoping.
I've taken in your ink; the sorrow and shame,
Your darkness, your doubts, your anger, your pain.
I've watched you for years from the shelf like a lark,
And I know what you think to yourself in the dark.
"Do I have enough muscle? Do my arms look like twigs?"
"Does my face look too round? Is my stomach too big?"
"Am I making a difference? Does anyone see?"
"Do they think I'm a failure, or is it just me?"
"Is she upset with you? Did you write back too late?"
"Did that comment in chat sound too weird out the gate?"
"Would they even notice if you were suddenly gone?"
"Am I writing this self-reflection part of the verse too long?"
Slow down, my friend. You're drowning in doubt.
If you keep this up, your strength will run out.
There's a truth I must tell that's long overdue:
I'm not just a journal. You wrote me. I'm you.
You see all your bad sides that no one else knows.
But if they knew them, would they really care? No!
I know that this AABB form's a bore,
So I'll leave you a message you ought to tell yourself more:
"Look in the mirror and reminds yourself this:
No, you're not perfect. But nobody is.
You're fighting. You're seen. You're fit for a song.
So keep your head up--today, you are strong."