September 25, 2019
“Who am I?”
She asks, looking into her own eyes in hope to find something relevant.
She hopes to find resilience.
To gather the power to roll with the punches while staying true.
To throw her rights, lose fights, and still beam.
She hopes that even when even she herself begins to push her underwater,
she will choose to become koi and glide beneath the waves.
She hopes chemicals will balance
She hopes to remember that she is still blooming.
That she is a flower, and when the blue eyed snake with a cigarette between his lips picks her a daisy; stem, petals, and leaves so beautiful, that she is not the daisy.
Because no one is themself without their roots.
She wants to recover from remedy dependence
She hopes to worry less, and remain unpretentious.
The universe has shown her far too many times that even raindrops think they are flying until they hit the ground, and to live unrecklessly but joyfully.
She wants to forget.
Forget her past and forgive herself for her mistakes
To release the bad memories, let go of those she’s lost, and learn to enjoy her own company.
For her to capture that gold plated mind state, she needs to release her self hate.
And of all, she needs to stop referring to herself as she; hiding behind false identity doesn’t release the anxieties of embarrassment, it intensifies insecurity.
She needs to stop referring to herself as she, because she is I.
And I am resilient
I am struggling, but I will rise
I will learn to care for myself before others
And I will forgive myself and let go of my worries
This is the odyssey of a dying flower and her many peccadilloes
This is my life
And I will live, not just survive.
I will fall, as all raindrops do, I will rise again and paint the sky
Just to remind myself that the world is still beautiful
It’s all so beautiful.