i hope my words are strange and wondrous,

like kisses that quiet all things superfluous,

so that we can all stop and

listen

i don't think there has ever been a point in my life in which i've felt the precariousness of my being collapsing in on itself.

this is not an appeal for pity,

in fact, this is good because i am piecing myself back together from the ashes.

yet it seems, my self in all its falling-apart state,

is being manhandled too roughly.

i am discovering in much depth, just what kind of person i am.

i am beginning to realize my best and worst habits in their permanence.

i am fanning out into the furthest reaches of my self, to the ends of my fingertips.

i am being stitched back together carefully with all the right threads, with a divine needle and a thread like spider web, almost invisible, but resilient.

but i am tired of the flows dictating my life,

i am weary of resisting the tug of convention, responsibility, obligation and voice.

step by step i make my way out of the black hole of self-doubt, self-hate, self-discrimination

and day after day i am pushed back in.

so

and for the first time in a long time,

i think i'm doing right.