That's the third person to name me an emerging butterfly.
Cliche - but cliches hold because they are power. Archetypal.
I exist between two selves. Floating, head turned to one side, eyes seeing everything, comprehending only a drop in infinite ocean. Armspan stretched, fingertips brushing the old dimension and the new. No ground to traverse - everything here takes flight, propelled by their own lifeforces across expanse.
Two realms at my hands. I'm in a third space. Undefined. I could break apart at any moment.
I am so frightened, so vulnerable out here. I can see the stars being born. It brings tears to my eyes. Maybe they fall, crystallize and become part of the new universe here, in the third space.
There is a voice in my head that tells me my fragility and fear are strengths. That they are the capacity for creation and bravery. I want to cry because I never believed that to be true. That I was worthy of such beauty, and life.
Inherited thought prisons latticed in to my heart, around my throat, like:
I'm unrefined, wild, and unbalanced but I try to take it back to patience, self love, compassion, acknowledgment, safe space for the little girl who never knew these things.
Maybe there is a beauty in the wobble and the wild. Maybe I can embrace her in this third space, lavish her in kisses, tell her how precious she is, encourage her to put effort and heart into everything she does because even though she's afraid, every one of us is. Normalize her human condition so it becomes integrated instead of something distasteful to resist or shame.
"Try me", said the disc. I'm trying.
Cliche - but cliches hold because they are power. Archetypal.
I exist between two selves. Floating, head turned to one side, eyes seeing everything, comprehending only a drop in infinite ocean. Armspan stretched, fingertips brushing the old dimension and the new. No ground to traverse - everything here takes flight, propelled by their own lifeforces across expanse.
Two realms at my hands. I'm in a third space. Undefined. I could break apart at any moment.
I am so frightened, so vulnerable out here. I can see the stars being born. It brings tears to my eyes. Maybe they fall, crystallize and become part of the new universe here, in the third space.
There is a voice in my head that tells me my fragility and fear are strengths. That they are the capacity for creation and bravery. I want to cry because I never believed that to be true. That I was worthy of such beauty, and life.
Inherited thought prisons latticed in to my heart, around my throat, like:
- My voice is not important because.....
- I have nothing of worth to share or say.
- I have no story or substance.
- I may as well have never been born.
- I barely exist.
- I am unwanted here.
- So I want to be dead somehow.
- I am a violation of space, of humanity.
- I am a mistake, therefore I am invalid.
I'm unrefined, wild, and unbalanced but I try to take it back to patience, self love, compassion, acknowledgment, safe space for the little girl who never knew these things.
Maybe there is a beauty in the wobble and the wild. Maybe I can embrace her in this third space, lavish her in kisses, tell her how precious she is, encourage her to put effort and heart into everything she does because even though she's afraid, every one of us is. Normalize her human condition so it becomes integrated instead of something distasteful to resist or shame.
"Try me", said the disc. I'm trying.
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