you’re aren’t strong until you can be soft.

it’s 2:05 am and i can’t sleep. my ancestors like to speak to me at quite inconvenient hours. while i can’t find rest, i am tired of contemplating why i must constantly face the consequences of fragility that is not mine. i wish i could take people’s acknowledgement of my strength as a compliment. i would much rather be example than landfill for all of their insecurities. how are you tough if it is borrowed? what is power that you must give back? i struggle to empathize with people that try to shortcut strength. they give away their frailty with each snide remark and subtle jab. with their inability to be serious. their aversion to clemency.

i pity those that take my pride personally. i built this hoe brick by brick and they are just a house with no rooms. i know what it’s like to feel empty. to guard vacant space. to be a body but not yet home.

lonely.

isolation and fear are like enmeshed best friends that stunt each other’s growth. happily. they don’t want progress, just predictability. they don’t know peace apart from pedestal. their pedagogy is inflicting pain.

i wish they could be present enough to know that they are actually working backwards. you can’t be strong until you know how to be soft. weak even. vulnerability is the act of relinquishing control. not a stamp of debility. it takes a lot more courage to let go.

strength is not just the ability to be hard. if it was, glass would not break nor would porcelain shatter. it’s actually quite dangerous to be hollow. if only some people knew that they were see-through. that their attempts to humble those around them translate into desperate cries for help. how sad is it to push away those that could have saved you?