those times that i have just myself and the night and that ceiling that's lingered as shelter these two and a half months...those are the moments when the sheets and the dark and the stillness of the day finally give my blown out brain a podium for speech.
a lot of times those speeches aren't ones i'm proud of; they tend more to be more of the times that i let my ugliness run unconstrained, rather than a glimmer of the beauty i hope to create. i realize then that there's this side of my so-called self that i hide so dearly for fear that its discovery will leave me so staggeringly alone that i'll never recover.
lately, i've started to take the reigns of those rampages and steer them into an avenue of life rather than death, and instead of speeches, they're more breaths of inhaling blessings and of exhaling thanks. instead of crushing my innards and outards and all, i'm working on soaking in the good and shutting out the bad by letting my head meditate on what i hold dear rather than what pesters.
freeing myself of the burden of myself is just what the doctor ordered: these shoulders of mine are already lookin up.
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