When living in a puppet show, the strings are always attached.
To live a life where what should be yours, is considered a favor or gift, is a life not worth stressing.
In the moment, hatred turned into permanent resentment, is not why I am here.
To let clogged emotions devour your peace of mind, is not what I am going to do.
It’s not worth it all.
Looking at these yellowish-orange walls and to only wonder how many shades lighter is it going to take to suddenly feel like home?
It’s never felt like home, but to accept that is the comfort that home gives, in your mind.
Wasted breathes but a lack of redemption.
It’s not worth it all.
The ceilings rising higher giving me the space to feel but my personal space only seems to get tighter as if it’s condensing between air and my skin.
No air bubbles, no space for progress.
Time is up.
As the chandelier sways, the essence of this house mimics it’s movement ; still, dull, dead.
I am always below the chandelier but my spirit is higher.
I am higher.
I am higher than the walls, than the ceilings, than the atmosphere that is my “ home “.
I am higher, because it’s only the beginning of my life.
Where I planted myself, where I rooted the person I want to become and not the person I am now, sitting still. To feel upset for not changing is not worth it at the moment, for there is still a lifetime to grow.
It is not worth it all.
All that is being, the beginning of my life.