Practicing Life

Practicing Life

Each day I find myself in a sort of haze; a routine of movement.

A stagnancy that at times drags me down with its weight.


The trees seem as gray as the streets and the light in the sky is harsh.

Conversation is being spoken but I hear very little. I have retreated.


There is a hole inside of me, a deep dark abyss that I fight daily.


The gravity of life pulls and I am weakened from the adiposity.


The soft breeze turns to dust and I want to run away.

Mourning is not an option, I yearn to find the light.

Each day brings distractions that cannot be ignored.


A question, an assignment, an anxious child, one that thought she was big enough...they all take presedence over my choice.


My life.


I talk, I fuss, they ask, they presume, they say things.


I allow them to make me feel less than.


I am the one who decides.

Yet I let them.

Why am I so afraid of taking on my own life?

I honestly just want to be me.


All me.


The good the bad, the serious the funny, the writer with crazy dreams and thoughts, the girl who has so many parts, so much depth, so open to what is around her. So sensitive to every emotion and vulnerability.


The one who has within her all of the things I need and a lot of what others need.

I know that but I'm afraid to show it.

I don't want anyone to think I am boastful.


I just want to be the girl I was supposed to be.

Me.


Still, the one I want everyone to like.


But what if they don't?

What if they laugh at me or question my motives?

What if I am not the person I expected to be?

What if...

That is why I practice life.

Rather than truly live it.