Before the Storm

But God.
I do wish I could be pretty 

I wish effort didn’t feel like two weeks of starvation and shackled weights on my ankles.
I’m dragging myself around with wishful thinking.
Someday I’ll feel lighter again.
And taking a breath won’t feel so labored.
That’s what I wake up for.
To know that fleeting feeling again. 
But not of the past, something new.
Something fresh.
Something I don’t know anymore.
See I love changes.
I love the promise of rebirth and even death is a welcoming concept. 
I like the seasons washing away the past. 
I like the present.
I like the ticking away of time. 
And years from now, finding this a far off memory.
I like possibilities. 
I search for them everywhere.
Even though I can’t find them

I’m looking where I can’t see.
And I know they’ll find me.


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