This will be the last time that I ever write about you.
I am not afraid to live- for I have lived.
I am not afraid to die- for I have died.
All I can do- when faced with oblivion,
is stand with my arms outstretched-
I was there-
I mean, I'm not desperate for attention but an acknowledgement would be nice ya know?
I burned my hand making Christmas cookies
for my small chosen family-
hoping that it is enough to thank them
for keeping me from falling headfirst
and loosing myself to my own mind.
The world is heavy
and so is my spirit.
I thought I made a mistake today when I again equated my self worth to numerics.
However, my life is worth more than numbers on a scale.
I have spent years learning to love myself.
I have spent months teaching myself helpful and safe patterns that honor myself.
I have spent weeks unlearning all the negative things I have heard from society about what a body should look like.
I have spent days helping others do the same through talking, art, music, and drama.
I have spent hours exploring my body- my temple.
I have spent minuetes unconsciously making new positive associations.
And I will spend no more seconds hating numerics in relation to my body.
The growth I wish for you will burn strong-
just like your picture and the dried rosemary did tonight.