Dangerous Contentment

What is it that I’m looking for? It lies in the back of my mind everyday, the pride, the love, the guilt. One week seems like a year to me. How can she go on? One week runs on like a year, but decades are her reality. Early mornings comes forever. For me, they are pleasures and luxury; random pictures conceived by my mind. To her, they’ve been cold dark skies, the shrieking of an alarm, the pins and needles in her feet as she steps out of bed. Never complaining. Never is she complaining, though she has every right to. Pride, love, and guilt fill her mind; she will not commit blasphemy in their name. She will not let us suffer her same judgment. Sadness lies in my heart, yes, so does fear. What should I strive for: success, contentment? These will but only lead to my privilege and ignorance of reality. Easy for me, a male, to tell the struggles of my mother, a woman. It would be immoral to just strive for my peace, for my mother’s tale is but the tell of billions. So success is not what I strive for, it should never be what anybody strives for. No matter how cheesy, stupid, and lame society has made these words seem, peace, equality, and justice are my goals, for they are life’s purpose.