i hope my words are strange and wondrous,

like kisses that quiet all things superfluous,

so that we can all stop and

listen

to be honest,

there are days where i just hate it all.

i hate my temper and irritability

i hate my strong convictions and stubbornness

i hate my logical control buttons and emotional floodgates

i hate my overwhelming brain activity

i hate my drive, my strength and what they call leadership qualities

i hate that i am unable to synthesize my strengths into a perfect formula,

and discard weakness like throwing out a potted plant.

i hate that i am unable to differentiate between false humility and self-pity,

and that my defense mechanism is to throw in sharpened words of humor

to swallow my frustrations and hide my disappointment.

the overwhelming sense of burden,

the responsibility of empowerment,

the expectation of perfection and humility,

culminates into silent inward screams,

bubbles over into irritation and private rants,

manifesting into fatigue and attempts at escape.

so i throw buckets of water over the flames,

and it sizzles and smokes up the place.

i choke on the fumes,

and cough out coal clouds of failed reform.

when the soot settles, it covers everything,

the walls of my soul are all black,

grimy, and disgusting.

and worse,

the fire won't go away.

and He says, "well obviously that didn't work out well,

let us clean this mess up"

and i get a cloth and a bucket of water,

then realize when He said "us" he meant four.

that is what it means for the heart to be full.

when there are four cleaning soot off the walls.

when there are four that sit and talk around the fire.

i guess all this time

i thought i was dreaming of courage,

of strength and hope and beauty.

but really,

they were all dreaming of me.