Endure the Randomness

I sought refuge in the wind. She told me to turn it all into rage. She tried to hush the flames, but nothing could quiet me.

She grew tired and whispered, “Morph it.”

So I did.

Nothing remains of what you knew of me.

My softness grew rigid, hardened into dragon skin, bull horns, snake eyes. I’m sure you’ve seen it all before. You’re the culprit behind countless other flames.

I’ve heard God calling out to my soul, digging through the rubble for my heart, but I beg Him— “Let me be.”

I can’t go back to being soft. I can’t lay down my shields.

I won’t tell you I’m okay,

Not today.

Not when the weight of pretending

Feels like a slow suffocation.

I won’t lie and say I’ve figured it out.

How to stay soft when the world sharpens its teeth,

How to love without wanting to be loved back,

How to sit still in the silence

Without begging it to speak.

The truth?

I’m a masterpiece of contradictions.

A lover afraid of love,

A fighter tired of fighting.

I crave freedom but cling to my chains

Because at least they’re familiar.

I’ve kissed my demons on the mouth,

Tasted their poison,

And still invited them back,

Because sometimes even the wrong things

Feel right in the dark.

I am not whole.

Not yet.

But I’m no longer breaking.

I’ve stitched my skin with threads of laughter,

Woven hope into the cracks.

And maybe that’s enough.

Maybe the mess, the ache, the 'not quite there yet'

Is all there ever is.

And maybe, just maybe,