like a weight on your chest
acknowledge when it’s not yours to carry
just because it is heavy
preserve strength for the moments that matter
seek understanding in
the things you cannot change
for you have many, many years left
to do many, many great things
and there is no space in the cabin
for someone else’s luggage
when you spend your days hoping for a very specific outcome
everything else can feel like a disappointment
celebrate the little things
as they slowly become bigger things
how often do we forgive
the transgressions of others
before we forgive the ones
we commit against ourselves
space in your day
is carved from within you
woven into how you carry the weight
of every single day and the potential it possesses
because there really is no such thing
as the right time to do something
for there is only time, and
what we choose to do or not do with it
how many days do I spend thinking
I’m doing the wrong thing
letting self doubt burn me alive
dousing this fire
why is it when we think of ourselves
we first think of what we are not
how radical would it be if I
kept the flame lit
and let nothing put it out
not even me?
I’ve spent childhood believing
that there’s this idyllic destination
where the people are kind
and the world doles out only
what you can handle
that there’s some supreme being
making decisions that are
what’s best for me
but I’m learning lately that
looking out for yourself
is the only guarantee that you’re cared for
that there are no other more capable hands
to manifest what the future holds for me
than mine.
this much I know is true
you can work hard for the dreams you’ve dreamt
buy fancy clothes, diamond necklaces
host wonderful dinner parties, RSVP only
and still go to bed alone.
if you spend every day in service of a goal
you decide to put nothing else first
find calm in quiet days
with people you love
doing nothing in particular
because remember come morning, even
the richest of the rich
in their lush coats and finest silks
have to change out of their clothes.
I’ve slipped on my shoes and
I’m pushing the front door open
greeted by rich, dense humidity
creating a thin sheer of dew
on my summer’s skin
I’m transported to this time in my life
when togetherness was just a neighbour away
and every problem felt like a big one
I stepped off the porch
the way humid warmth attaches to me
like nostalgia
there’s comfort in the heat
of feeling so uncomfortable
I place one foot out
and then the other
the cicadas so loudly exclaiming
what a relief it is
to live in the past
because at least, you
always know what happens next.
no one is against you
they’re for themselves
in a world where being perfect is the currency
learn to leave your wallet at home
elleguyence 