Tired of the sadness
Of waking to stomach acid leaking out of my esophagus
To the over flow of mucus.
The congestion of allergies and constant fatigue.
Of wanting to escape my life
And convincing myself to embace it
To the constant berating I give myself
And the loving pep talk, that I tell myself so often that is starting to sound more and more like religious brain washing.
Of being so abundantly gentle and having no space for fear.
To being fair and always the stability, when I’m a blizzard of internal observation and processing.
Tired of talking about how unhappy and exhaustingly miserable I am.
Of feeling guilty for feeling at all.
Of constantly searching myself for verification and validity
To being at such extremes of contradictive emotions
Tired of PTSD
Tired of being
I’ll always continue because I can’t be weak enough to fail.
I am tender, fragile, and gentle. Everytime I reach within to embrace myself I get battered, but I won’t ask for permission. I’ll take what is my divine right. If it takes me forever. If it’s the end. I’ll discover my wholeness.