When you hold something...
Initially, the weight doesn't matter.
I would call this, the commencement phase.
Yet, the longer you possess it?
This load gets heavier and heavier.
No matter the weight.
No matter the object.
The burden elevates.
It could be a glass of milk.
Water.
But after 8 hours?
It willl feel like 1,000 pounds.
This is life.
And...
I have come to the belief that we need to learn how to put things down.
To give ourselves a break.
From trauma.
From troubles.
Even from that a glass of milk.
We need to be able to..
Give ourselves the credit, and courage to say?
What truly matters?
What are we holding onto?
What toxicity are we keeping a float?
Is this too taxing?
What are we truly spending our time and expenses on?
Is it worth it?
What is this wealth we are holding on to?
Is it a burden or a bundle?
What is the true cost of the poundage?
The load?
What is the price of the guilt?
The benefit of the reward?
Truth be told;
We are all pencils.
We are all able to write our own narratives.
But we all get worn down, and we consequently, need to be sharpened.
But that is usually, not a pleasant process.
It hurts.
This exercise tends to be uncomfortable, but it is preparing us to write our next chapter.
And for us in order to write more, and soldier on, we must evolve, and let ourselves be open to change.
To transform.
Perhaps become shorter, but smarter.
Sharpen.
Knowing the whole time we are the same thing, but more aware, better.
Concise.
I would also like to say, that we must remember, the pencil can also erase.
It can dissolve our mistakes, bad verdicts, and assumptions.
Time has the power to eradicate our bad decisions, it has to, in order for our story to start anew.
Father time does this so we can know that we can falter, but we can also supersede, and rewrite our futures, all thanks to that expungement.
In failure, we learn.
But we need to be able to reshape.
And we can.
So grind on.
Let us all be able to...
File our edges, and ourselves, over and over again, until we finally write the story we want to tell.
We are all works in progress.
Or at least I know I am.
Best of luck to all of us on this journey we call life.
Xoxo,
C.
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