I KNOW YOU’RE NOT READING THIS. I KNOW YOU DON’T CARE. BUT IF YOU COULD DO THE WORLD A FAVOR AND TRY TO BE FAIR. DELETE ME ENTIRELY OR FACE UP TO OUR TRUTH. BE A BETTER EXAMPLE OF LOVE FOR OUR YOUTH. LET THEM SEE MATURITY. LET THEM SEE GROWTH. LET THEM SEE THAT IN YOU, THERE IS A FUTURE OF HOPE. SHOW THE COMPASSION THAT COMES AS NATURAL AS THE ACT. HAVE COMMUNICATION THAT SHOWS YOU DO IN FACT HAVE TACT. WELCOME GROWTH FOR YOUR SOUL, THE KIND THAT MOVES MOUNTAINS INSIDE. SHOW SOME LOVE AND LET DOWN THE HIGH PRIDE. BE WHO YOUR SOUL CLAIMS AND LET LOVE LEAD THE WAY. SILENT DISREGARD IS A FOOLISH GAME TO PLAY. IT PRESENTS OPPONENTS RATHER THAN TEAMMATES OF THIS EARTH. IT SETS LOVE ASIDE AND LEADS ONLY WITH HURT. YOU GIVE TO THE WORLD BUT REFUSE TO TAKE PART, IN OWNERSHIP OF LOVE OR IN THE HEALING OF WOUNDED HEARTS.
WHEN IT COMES TO ACCOUNTABILITY, ILL TAKE IT OVER AND AGAIN. BECAUSE GROWTH IS THE ONLY GAME WHERE WE SHOULD TRY TO WIN. I HAVE SO MUCH CONCERN FOR THE EXAMPLE YOU ARE GIVING AND MY HEART BREAKS FOR THE CONFUSION IN WHICH WE’VE BEEN LIVING. PERHAPS ONLY I AM THE ONE WHO FEELS THE SADNESS AND LONGING, OR PERHAPS IT IS ONLY LOVE THAT I WISH IN BELONGING.
SUCCESS COMES AFTER MASSIVE FAILURE REARS UP. BUT ONLY IF REFLECTION HAS BEEN OBSERVED THROUGH THE EYES OF AWAKENING LOVE
This is the face of love. Each time my heart is touched by love it is etched in my soul. It creates a path of proof through the smile’s lines of love’s joy and laughter. Then wanders through the brow’s furrow of love’s wonder. It penetrates the pores pouring from love’s pain. Love looks like this.
This is the face of desperation. Pleading for the pain to process and bring peace. Begging for release from the bindings and shackles of shame from continually feeling this way. Bargaining no more, but blinded by defeat. Desperation looks like this.
This is the face of hope. Recognizing that this is a moment of an awareness of raw experience and reality. Lit up briefly by the reflections of the tears sweet brilliance of beaded reckoning. Relinquishing the idea that I have to keep it festered and vested in the cavity my soul reveals as wounded. Hope looks like this.
This is the face of disgust. Putting too much sacred deliverance into a space already self filled. Giving with relentless effort to offer more just to prove worth to the takers who’ve passed on praise. Inflicting a self imposition and acknowledgement of misalignment. Self, not self. Disgust looks like this.
This is the face of bewilderment. Standing in a cleansed body state of muddled mind. Perceptions shifting and breathing brings only moments of mild mannered transitions. In disbelief with feeling of washed over and sharing poses more as imposition, overlooked and taken for granted. Bewilderment looks like this.
This is the face of strength. Grimace and regrouping, bawling and growing. Perseverance begins to permeate after repeated experience. Going in as a dove, coming out scorched dark, now a raven, yet continually still it flies. Rising to the challenge baffling the deliverer of discourse. Strength looks like this.
This is the face of grief. The sudden onset of not understanding that operations continue. Disbelief of lack of attentive heart compassing language and cognition. Wayside, left in wonder. Sad overcame by weight weighed by a judge of less caliber. Cast aside and left alone in the debris of dismantling. Grief looks like this.
And then I realized, I am one of those pretty girls. I saw that there was no difference between those others and myself. See at first I thought I was less than them. I thought that I was nowhere near the bar they had set. I don’t have those skills. I don’t have that body. I don’t have that status. There is no way that I could ever be that.
And then I realized that I am one of those pretty girls. I saw that there was no difference between how you see them and how you see me. See at first, I thought I was more than them. I thought that I must have set the bar higher. I have admirable skills. I have a body that you crave. I have an aura about my status. There is no way they could ever be like me.
And then I realized that I am one of those pretty girls. I saw that perhaps there was no differentiation between the lust for those and the accessibilty to me. See at first I thought that I was chosen over them, but maybe I was just settled for. I have some more than excellent skills that make you shake, but maybe if they gave the time, youd exprience the same from them. I have a body that when your eyes are closed, you slip into as though maybe it is one of them you are thinking about. I have a status that says I want love and will take it if it seems as though maybe you want to love me, because they are taken or live too far away. There is no way that you would pass up on them because they are much more than me.
And then I realized that maybe I am just a pretty girl.
im sorry, i know you are busy. i know it is not a good time. but i dont know when is when i feel like my heart is on the line. never is there a good time. never is there a good place. there is never a good anything when i am in this space. and so that is exactly what i want to address. i cant understand when and why this is a constant part of my process. i dont want to be like this i dont want to be seen like this. i feel like im on the edge daily of a mental abyss. and that is hard for me to admit. but i say it all the time so that i can feel legit in my being legit in my existence like i am a part of this fight and i dont want the resistance. i want to be able to live freely in love. i want to know that you are in love. with me. all of me. especially the hardest parts that there are of me to love. and i should probably stop hoping that i should feel that from a human love. i should probably learn to let that love come from above. i try oh believe me i try. but everyday that goes by and i dont get the whatever it is i need from anywhere i try love, i die. a little bit more in my brain and a little bit more my heart goes insane. because, see, this torment comes out of nowhere sometimes. and this torment is created by my internal lies sometimes and this wisdom that sits deep inside my soul gets washed away with every time my expressions are turned away from. or not acknowledged. not drawn out from me, see… i want to be engaged with words that extrapulate the self hate away form my mouth away from my souls gate and the prison that i have built as my metaphorical estate. and everytime i have to be the one to say anything about my mental duress i get stressed because it is happening again, and i just cant win and i should be able to come to you but dont you understand that to me love is when you choose to infiltrate the demons inside me, with the knowledge that you will stand beside me and fight with me. i know that you are scared youll get taken control of, but when love fights next to me the fight is quickly over. and i am free once again. i can then resume my life and live once again. i can look into your eyes because they are so near to me and i didnt fear that i would be fighting alone while you waited for me to win on my own and come back to this world with a smile on my face. while you wait for me to be a in a space that you are more comfortable to embrace. love is not always comfortable, love is when you look at me and say that together we are able to keep growing stronger. and it will take longer for those demons to come back into my brain because you will be on guard and holding my heart close enough that the space is too small for the doubts to grow bigger and make me fall out of your hold, the grasp would be too tight and soon i will see that there is no reason to fight anymore. because everytime i have expressed my doubt of my self or your love you will have stood in the path of my resistance and you will be persistent and you will not be distant. but insistant that no matter how long this takes you are willing to be the one who will always win this race that i run against myself. and i wont have to fear that it is slipping away based on the games that myself internally plays agianst me and that the rest of the world. i will know that i am always heard. and loved. and i will win, and then … you wont be too busy because the time is so few and far between. and i will always feel like a queen who has control over her kingdom , no more doubts will be let in. and all the in the middle of the days woes will be washed away by the i love yous, and ill know that is true…
Is it already this day, two days before the day after tomorrow… another one of those days harrowing of sorrow… reflecting back and I recollect the beginning of the hollow.
The tunnel had been dug, been digging since the sunset dimmed, removing the foundation making flooring bend… impossible to stay stable, unable with the ground sinking in.
The reality starts to halt, the words just months before delivered, unfaltering unwavering no tremble or quiver… are no longer sourced as Love from who they were whispered.
I’ve been here before, the cycle starts turning and hits a kink in the chain… so much is familiar and yet it has an equivocal exchange … it was all raised and laid out with no grasp to remain.
It is already this day, the day before the day that comes after tomorrow… the proclamation set and yet now blame follows… such a sad reflection of the projection, once again, wilted by sorrow.