Be Your Own Kind of Beautiful

Dear Diary,

Silence has fallen on my pens for two weeks. My ink has been drying up or regrouping itself from the delicate corners of my oftenly bleeding heart. I have seen all sorts of dawns that transitioned to different sort of days. There has been the ones that the fog cleared as soon as the morning sun yellowed the sky bright and others that have seen the mist hover over my being till dusk.

Emotional triggers have showed up in undistinguishable forms. Random acts from anyone attached to my core have seen me spiral in the dark for days. Opportunity to walk away keeps washing up on my shores but I keep finding myself dragging my soul back to the deep. Healing has never been easy for me. Forgiving myself is even harder. Which in return makes self love a task at times.

The moon has made promises as the sun has risen to dissolve them. Long nights have held me close and rocked me as I broke into a million pieces. My frozen tears have basked on the vastness of my cheeks down to my neck. The cold midnight wind has whispered sweet nothings. And my melanined skin has dearly paid the hefty price of containing the uncertainties of it all.

Childhood memories are sneaking up on me. Nightmares of haunted graves and murky deadly rivers are back. The toxicity I grew up in. The abuse I am yet to talk about has been resurfacing. This is because every attempt to find myself has me digging shallow burial sites and confronting the not so dead.

But still I keep looking for light. Still try to work on shedding some if not all the weight that keeps pulling me under. I hope to conquer my chaotic thoughts while I am at it as I tame these crippling fears and dilute this seasonal bitterness once and for all.

Probably I will then have the ability to channel my essence to anyone willing to connect or can at least relate to it and somehow irrigate my roots with some much needed kindness.

To find my center and balance, I am speaking kindly to my inner child. I am admitting my mistakes and reassuring her that I got this. I am reconnecting myself with a woman who saw it fit to gift me life. Her magic and flow of energy synchronised with my drifting focus will help ground me for my own healing.

Cooking is one of the ways how and since she taught me how to, my small kitchen has been my way back to her. This might be odd for some but her presence has been felt revitalising my frame. Art (sketching and doodling) plus dancing (something I learned from my favourite girl too) are responsible helping me relax.

I have been inviting colours here to see if soon time will turn constant blues and grey moments into a rainbow. One that will help me see the rods of the cage I am in or help me free myself for an exploration beyond where my will to strive for better is detained.

This is my way of stepping out of the comfort zone. It's an act of rebelliousness on what has been a stale state of the known. Walking into the unknown anticipating to feel the sun and adjust to the blinding light. It is hoping finally embrace the act of living over merely existing while also trying to understand that I have to continuously fight to be in this positive headspace.

And the fight is with no one else than my inner man and her obnoxious expectations plus her internalised fear. This is and has been my only wish!

art made for this post...