– Better Days –
The better days have often eluded me.
I find myself a victim to my own sense of hardship,
and the sense of worthlessness
that those imaginary burdens bring.
Sometimes it feels like every day
has been the end of all days,
days when I have sunken
to the lowest depths within myself,
held down by the weight
of all my sorrows and fears.
I feel the need to seek perfection
in all of my exploits and actions,
in the way that I receive the actions of others
who would more often seek to harm me.
But when those better days become clear,
I rise to the surface to find the light again,
to find myself looking back at me from within
a rippling pool of infinitely changing facets,
reflecting the many different versions of me
that I had sought to create to mask my instability.
I realize that so much of that pain
was constructed as a cosmetic,
and that the perfect version of me
was less and less of what I was truly able to be,
what I truly wanted to share of myself
with the world around me.