Somewhere along experiences, validation of a story begins to set in.
With sustainable evidence binding thoughts and feelings.
Random logic clear in the information shared from puzzle pieces.
Reliable from a front seat view of the floorplan of a home.
Effective in carrying on without consent being given.
Sound from beginning to end in its walk with endless noise.
Convincing in nothing ever changes because it can't.
Intentional in defining the community unfavorably.
Privileged in its lingering touches to everything on its path.
Because there are words that shelter thoughts and feelings, making it easier to link struggles through a single tune.
To acknowledge that the ache of scars is the proof of whatever we think that it is.
And, of course, the job of valid is to confirm that, with the implication that fine is impressed by that environment.
But as time passes, what won't leave our side continues to shout over the quietness of all right.
As if it knows who we are and what we can have despite any step towards different.
Denying the resilience it has taken to exist halfway between the cruelty of nothing ever changes because it can't and the confusion of implied relief.
Art, after all, is never just created from what we live but in how we question and accept the best as well as the worst of our images.
And whether those bits and pieces are ever eventually reconciled into power, not because those moments changed, but the use of their evidence did.
So, valid is an accurate shelter but its title was never meant to be hung on the door as a full-on stop.
It's the pause in the familiar sentences going nowhere that we have yet to find support in.
A place not to ask too much of what doesn't look good but to realize that conclusions remain the same when we are homesick within our very own words.
Valid is as valid does until the music it releases includes the notes that allow us to love the versions of ourselves that have been lost in the paint.
Have the best day POSSIBLE for you. Love Always, Heavell
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