self

Wilted, that’s how I feel,
a flower that’ll never bloom again.
My petals droop and die,
fluttering to the ground one by one;
will I ever be restored?

I’m going through this phase;
maybe someone can relate.
Emptiness encases me
like a thick woolen glove.

I’m trying to escape the feeling
of being smothered and surrounded
by all that has invaded my insides
over these past fifty-some years.

Is it too much to ask
to be able to understand myself?

*These were some personal sentiments I found when reading through my journal over this past year. I think I’m much closer to understanding myself now, but there are days when the weight of this world still closes in on me and reminds me of all the things I wish I could change. I’m happy that I never stay stuck in my head for long, and I generally snap back after a few days of wallowing in self-pity. I’m continuing to look for ways to keep a positive outlook on life. Nobody wants to be droopy forever. 😉

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