My Direction

Let me tell you my life story.

I was left.

But in some ways what I mean to say is that I turned left on that dead end road that our knees shake just thinking about.

I am not alone on this journey if you believe my words.

The moon's shadow holds me at night.

The sun's rays kiss my skin on days that are even ravaged by rain.

But the rain isn't my enemy.

The rain is a savior, a second chance, the miracle cure that washes away all of the pain in the world.

My rain boots are my guides, sloshing through every challenge that dares an attempt to drown me.

No, I am not alone.

The wind whispers love poems into the shell of my ear.

The rough sand scrapes away the imperfections between my toes until all that is left is wisdom.

And love for the hard things in life.

Because it is the wave that knocked me over that taught me how to stand.

It is the bully on the playground who taught me that my Wonder Woman cape really does fit my shoulders.

And it is the heartache and the pain that punched me in the stomach that taught me how much I love air.

The words on the leather pages of dusty books leap into my arms and scream:

"The past may be permanent, but it is written down just for you to breathe in their lessons."

You see, no beautiful moment is ever lost.

They are merely built upon until they are skyscrapers tall enough for every suicidal person to escape ever reaching the ground.

I have heard stories about reaching for cloud nine, but that isn't what I want.

Flying isn't the dream that caresses my shaking body when the midnight air turns cold.

No, I aspire to go higher than that.

To shoot way past the moon to those stars that have always been flickering just to prove that the darkness takes over sometimes.

And that is okay.

Without the darkness those stars would never shine.

Life is made out of sugar and can crumble at any touch but I will never be afraid to stick out my tongue and taste it.

I may have been left, but that doesn't mean that my decision wasn't right.

Because now, forever I can say that the universe is painted on the back of my hand.

And I can tell you that I know myself like every drop of color that has ever mingled with my skin cells.

I may have been left, but at the same time I was given to the matrix that harmonizes this world.

I now know that sometimes, we are just as naive as the caterpillars who have no idea what life has in store for them.


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