Stability

I miss when the words used to flow.

I suppose that’s what happens when you hold everything inside, and you sit down to write and it all just pours out.

These days I let myself experience so many emotions on a daily basis, they become jumbled in my head and I have difficulty sorting, discerning, and then putting into words.

There is so much here, if only I could find it.
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I’m trying to sort out the past, too.
The ability to clearly recall is not always a comfortable or reassuring one.

Trying to forgive yourself for being That Self is more difficult than I imagined.
I had it figured I’d forgive myself first, and others later.

Instead, I can forgive others so easily, view them with a compassionate eye and understand their plights, pain, rationalizations and even lashings.

I cannot, however, seem to find a way to apply this to myself on a regular basis, or more importantly, concerning the past.

I cannot view myself with that same compassion that I so easily see others with.
I fight myself about being deserving of anything better or great.
It is so comfortable for me to stay in the same personal spot, pushing ahead while gripping tightly to that past, holding on for dear life to all that has made me up, and over,
and dragged me down.

I just want to let it go
and I’m just not sure how.
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In the past six months my life has changed so dramatically that I often
find myself looking in from the outside and thinking,
"This is all for ME?"

Who would have thought it all possible.

It’s amazing the glasses we wear when we’re drowning everything in 90 proof
or swallowing it all with rainbows of pills.

Today is not about everything being hearts and flowers and rainbow-striped unicorns in the sky.

But the ability to see that nothing is coincidental, you really DO get out what you put in,
and happiness isn’t that far away.

Today I am happy,
and it is good.

I wish there were a way to give this feeling to everyone.

Today, I wish.
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bricks
dense, unmoving, unfailing
brick walls, brick shit-houses,
brick and lace, brick and mortar
brick city

bricks – original soft substance
hardened by time
and fire.

hitching a ride on my weakened back,
watching my brick walls crumble,
planted in front of me like a brick
shit-house I couldn’t walk
around you, thick and unshakable

you are
and I want to be.

*-V.