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Boris Cho Nov 11
I learned that true healing begins with the recognition of the patterns passed down through generations, woven into the fabric of my emotional life. My childhood experiences, whether painful or nurturing, have shaped my responses to the world, and only by acknowledging the wounds left behind can I begin to free myself from their grip. I must confront the destructive behaviours that have taken root; those subtle habits of self-sabotaging and deeply ingrained fears that seem to guide my actions almost unconsciously.

To move forward, I take responsibility for my emotional growth. This journey requires me to nurture the parts of myself that have been neglected, to offer the care and compassion that were once missing. I have learned to cultivate an inner sense of safety, to build trust within myself, and to challenge the narratives that no longer serve me. Through deliberate self-exploration, I identify the beliefs and emotions that have kept me stuck, and I work to transform them into my greatest strengths.

It’s a process of reparenting; providing myself with the love, guidance, and protection I once sought from others. I gently untangle myself from the trauma that has echoed across generations, and in doing so, I begin to break free from the cycles of the past. Each step forward brings me closer to a more resilient, authentic version of myself, one that is capable of self-empowerment and emotional growth. This isn’t a journey of quick fixes but one of deep transformation, where I learn to honour my past while fully embracing the potential of who I am becoming.

——

I listen closely to his cry,
A truth long hidden, now untied.
With love, I heal the aching past,
And offer peace that’s meant to last.

I break the hold of old belief,
Release the pain, embrace relief.
In every tear, in every plea,
I find the strength to set him free.

I draw my boundaries firm and clear,
Protect the space that I hold dear.
With quiet strength, no longer torn,
The child within me has been reborn.

— Sincerely, Boris
G Vermeulen Aug 29
Sometimes I feel like a candy wrapper
Found in a lot of places
Seen but not recognized
Never prioritised

All about the unwrapping
See how far they can get
Without shredding
But it's not about the padding

Then to be used
For their filth
To be added to my insides
And wrap back around all my sides

Once I've been toyed with
It's done for
Time to throw me away
Doesn't matter what I say

Simply, trash
Alio Apr 2023
Booting…booting…booting
Power on
Channel change
Weave through channels
Comical in a moment
Historical in the next
Melodramatic then bold
Tailor made for for the masses
Everyone has a channel they like
And I tune to all

But what when alone?
No channel to choose
A dark reflective screen
Replays a dark mien
I am a TV
For you to watch
Delicately balanced
Too easy to botch
Michael Feb 2021
More of me than one mind.
More of me than one heart.
More of me than one soul.
Less of me, just one part.
Love is good.  Love is bad.
I can't decide if I'm happy or sad.
If there's more of me than one,
than perhaps I'm just mad.
Crazy to think I could finally find sanity.
I lost myself looking.  I'm my own enemy.
Who I am now is just a darker version,
of the man I once was...
Another person.
Sometimes I hate you,
and others, I don't.
I think I love you,
but I really don't know.
Sometimes I'm split between myself.
Henk May 2020
I will build for you,
a path of coal and ash and stone
Cold upon flesh,
expended, marring, broken, and ******

Stumbling blind,
dead end in sight
Promises hollow as bone,
Fingertips tear at the throat,

Choking on nothing, veins swell and burst
Blocking the light, denying the hope,
Abide the noose and it's hunger,
Define, the feeling of fear,
Reminded of the grasp of sweet slumber
Lizzie Cadence May 2017
I remain puzzled by my own puzzles,
of pieces the universe strung together through its orbits,
of the shades of blue and pink and steel grey it painted
on my wrists and my cheeks and my tiny feet
for there is no reason why I should crave silence,
yet my ears thirst for it, and the noise of life too
I long to let loose, yet I keep my chest sewn shut
I have so much to say, but speaking drains me
because the warm and the cold runs and spins and stirs
and standing here, I remain confused
as I wonder what to be
and wander through the land and sea
searching for who to be.
an identity crisis, or just chronic ambiversion?

— The End —