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Grasping Bliss

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Days passed in slow motion.
Life seemed to pause,
Lock on hold,
Until I gathered up enough strength,
To press play.
Instead, I assumed it was
The Lord, himself,
Who deleted every clip of me laughing,
Every clip of me smiling,
Until the screen before me had gone
To the dark of night.
I would go to sleep
Tossing,
Turning,
Worrying,
Forcing my stomach to churn.
I would wake with flushed, salted cheeks,
Appearing exactly how I felt.
Useless.
Limp.
Like no matter what I did,
To cease this trauma,
My heart would eventually stop beating.
My lungs would eventually stop breathing.
Finally I just said enough.
Enough of this pain,
This poison blazing through my veins.
Enough of this needless sympathy,
Feeling sorry for myself,
Because I wasn't as perfect
As I wanted to be.
It was then that I realized perfect doesn't exist.
Though bliss does.
It was high time I found mine.
Whenever I thought,
For even a moment,
How others may view me,
Or how that one strand of my hair wasn't in place.
Or how my clothes weren't the latest couture,
I would stop.
I would count my blessings.
I have a family to love me.
I have a house to stay in.
I have plentiful food.
I have a warm bed every night...
I have a future.
Why let your health,
Work,
Love life,
Aspirations,
All be interfered with rumors and comments.
When there is always another tomorrow.
To stop hurting,
You have to stop wanting.
Desiring to be liked,
To please the world,
To grasp something abstract,
Is a waste when you have it all along.
In you. Me. She. He. Us.
To attempt to cleanse the world,
Would create a new Holocaust inside me.
It's not worth it.
It's not my responsibility,
As long as I stay me,
Wearing what I want,
Speaking up in a crowd,
Getting a decent night's sleep.
Why should I set my mind to
Eye rolls,
Snickers,
Whispers?
When I'm able to
Dream.
Breathe.
Hope.
Be true to everything I stand for.
Now I may finally resume my movie,
Write my own story.
This is my bliss.
Can you say the same?




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