So maybe I’m wrong for feeling inadequate, tiny and voiceless. It’s been a while since I expressed my truth, I’ve been on a steady staple diet of insecurity, now full stomached on mediocrity. Settling for substantially less in life circles and cycles. Yes I am in constant awareness that everyone has a mask duly uncovered with time,but quite frankly mine has got to be the best performance I’ve ever staged.
Am I happy? *laugh?* See it’s funny you asked that question because apparently no one seems to see past the crooked smile and the layered face. The crime scene of a night wasted backstroking in a pointless pool of tears. In this game of wits even the mighty are humbled at their opportune moment.This just might be a fraction of mine. And I’ve thought it through and through, over and over, by and large, book by page and I am certainly amused by this life story meant to be my own. Words personify unspoken emotions, but what if there are no words that amount to the struggle? Real or not the struggle must and will be felt vis-à-vis pain as one quote thunderously echoes.
Yet still as man is subjected to the cruelties of life once in a while a breeze of hope sweeps us off our feet so frail just to remind us that there is purpose amidst the sorrow. Our present affliction is negligent and light in comparison to eternity and the glory wherein. I must brace myself for the storms and raging winds fiery and steady; this is just but a transition. I will gracefully rise above.