I’ve been trying to decipher what is intentionally good in my life versus what is not. It’s not an easy thing to wade through. The waters are murky and deep and filled with emotional piranhas who could devour my peace of mind in seconds.
The constant movement of bile and bias, of old love and new love, of memory and reality, coat me in oil slick residue that feels thick and permanent and over time, has made me almost tear proof.
My Sadness will always be there. Buried deep inside. Between the sheets, around the beats, beneath the heat of my valleys and peaks, and at the center of any happiness I may find along the way. It is the bluish blackish bruise of me and I have embraced it as such in its entirety.
I am neither happy nor sad, neither confused nor certain, neither hurting nor healed. I am simply here, living in the quiet storm of this crazy existence. Some days feel dangerously volatile and others deceptively calm. Yet through it all, I find solace in the shade and shadows of yesterday.
No longer frantic and filled with regret and the endless ache of wanting and wishing, the past has become a place of sweet memory and a gentle reminder that love remains in each and everything we have touched, are touching now, and will ever touch in the future.
Today I’m ok with that.
It brings me solace.
The sun is shining, the birds are singing and life, as always, is full of possibility. And hey, I’m still here to tell the story.
I am grateful. 🙏🏽🌼❤️