When the things that we have met personally have their meanings marked out by the perception of those who have unconnected life experiences, our own joy becomes uninhabitable and yet we will search through the words of others to find the answers for why ours is unsuitable.
Its like trying to match the view that we see of someone else while abandoning the inside of ourselves instead of recognizing that our sight and wants will change over time but the home that we reside in will remain as the place that we will always be.
Its like holding the proof of being sometime warriors but believing that the absence of those details in others reduces the value of our strength that has grown from being enfolded by the storms of grief and fear as well as dragons.
Its like not finding understanding for the unique needs of our own soil but then getting our gardening advice from a completely unalike environment even though we know different does not guarantee better.
Its like carrying the weight of our emotions but explaining to ourselves that they are the barriers to the happiness that we see around us so we must lose ourselves rather than embrace the pain.
It’s like embodying hope as a lifeline but not realizing that when we are so tired from the million falls on the trail to success, an unspoken detail of resilience is to rest even though others will tell us to keep going otherwise we are not functioning accurately in the system.
Its like believing that what others hand us are items that we are meant to hold in our spaces but then also feeling as if its too much to ask for them to be uncomfortable by packing ours into their rooms.
Its like following along with framing flowers within the imagery of certain acts or locations although layered on pages are the blooms that hold snippets of our lives that cannot be duplicated nor felt by anyone other than who they belong to.
Its like thinking that being a work of art in progress means fixing what’s on the inside when that phrase is about moving the coverings of the desert that established itself as we allowed others to clean out the very homes that they can never even enter.
The dirt that is used in individualistic gardens relies upon what we put into it to safely hold the seeds and plants and while there are times when the growth is slowed by the amount of debris that’s in that soil, we are never unable to experience happiness there, as long as we don’t confuse someone else’s fitting in for our own.
Have the best day POSSIBLE for you. Love Always, Heavell
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