Is it Tuesday?

Yesterday I thought about all the people that had maybe ever wished bad karma on me and how happy they can all be that I’m continuously being put in my place. 

Then I thought about how often I had tricked myself into believing I was living my life for myself. I had tricked myself into believing that I wasn’t trying to prove something to someone somewhere. 

I tried to remember that feeling. Right before I had a boyfriend. That feeling of contentment being happy being single.  Writing love letters to all the beautiful men existing in my brain. Realizing that I couldn’t control whether I found someone or not but I could control the kind of life I lead. At least to certain extents. 

I want to be a magnificent friend.  I want to be a great daughter and an even better sister. I want to be a good listener. I want to create beautiful things and learn about herbs. I want people to come to me with their woes and for me to be able to help them find their way back through it. I want to write well, paint boldly, draw freely, dance to my beat.I want everything I do to be a movement of goodness and a work of growth or kindness.  I want to have fulfilling company and I want my company to be fulfilling. 

Be free of the beliefs I placed on myself through others. Stop making myself the prisoner of those I could not bare to leave behind. Funny how often we stay in our cells, just to not let go of a person who didn’t even put us there. They just kept going with their lives. 

Placing expectations on people who couldn’t possibly fulfill them. Seeing my own strength in people who did not have my courage. 

Using arrogance as the blanket that protects me from the flames as I run out of of this burning prison. The sun is bright and hot but it means freedom and soon it will be nighttime and the moon will once again belong to me and I will belong to her and we will whisper secrets into each others glowing faces and giggle at men’s appeal to the nymph. She strokes my hair and hums into my bones, “all they want is the myth, the human is too real. They want the idea so they can reject it, reality demands sustainable belief and effort.” My arrogance purrs. I sigh at myself. 

The weight of philosophy breathes down on my eyelids as I shut them and breathe in the sunrise. Arrogance only protects. But if used incorrectly it stifles. 

My heart kicks my throat again and I remember why I’m here. I keep walking. Walking away from the prison until I stop looking back. Walking away from the prison until my throat stops asking me to go back. Till it remembers how true freedom is, how prison is an illusion of safety and love. When you’ve been away from the fire for so long, even gentle warmth feels like burning. Then again, my fire burns even me, sometimes. 

The absence of anything leaves a gaping hole, even when it’s the absence of sadness. I cannot pull out the daggers that have been in my heart if I do not put warmth there, the sunrise, the sunset, the ancient presence of the moon, the love. Replace hope with knowing and certainty with elasticity. 

Try to live peacefully in the persistent impatience that exists in an hour, and the eternal impatience that exists in a minute. Eternity is agonizing when time is linear. 

And it’s only Tuesday. 


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