I have made alot of decisions.
mostly they have to do with food, or my body, and who I think I am on the inside. These are the usual things that people decide. Telling myself that I'm beautiful and smart and worth everything that offers itself to me is just as hard for myself as it is for any other searching soul. I am not special, I do not deserve more than anyone else. I am in no way entitled to find this so-called "happiness."
and yet, here I am, searching; grabbing hold of anything that feels solid enough to hold my weight, when I feel so heavy in this world of what seems to be made of only clouds, and I am falling, falling, falling...
The hardest thing is attempting to accept the way everything is, right now, in this moment. Wanting something more is buried deep inside of us. It is what makes us great; wondrous and tremendous, staring into the horizon and ready to face the new stories. That hunger, that seed that is so deep-down in us and growing thick, strong and immovable roots into our legs and feet and arms and fingertips, that is what gives us life. It is also what causes so much pain, because we grow disappointed in the results of our flailing attempts at a perfect life, the perfect story. And so from these roots also grows a hard exterior, a facade which sometimes seems impervious to invasion. We grow so confident in these outer shells that we've built for ourselves, our great walls, that we forget that all it takes is the smallest thing to cause their destruction.
we are all just trees. we are all just very old trees, trying to stay alive in an ever-changing climate of love and hate and greed and anger and joy and kindness.
I am only an oak tree, a sapling, maybe. I might be small, I might not look like much now, but I am strong. I might not look like much now, but soon I will.