Life is like a mirror, it never reflects more than you put into it.

Anon

Categorically, singularly, completely I am lost. I am torn between elation and grief. I am both exhausted and energetic. I am boundless and I am tied. I am alone but not alone. I am uncertain and sure. I am impatient and patient.

I have everything to give each day. And yet. There is part of me that nags that this is not enough.

It is not enough because I really want some ice cream. A cigar. I want to drink without feeling guilty. I want a holiday, without spending any money. I want to say yes to every social, without having to worry about time, money, effort, appearance, anxiety.

My sense of freedom. An inflatable unicorn, pool, cigar, mojito, dance, music and a few naked gods around me. And the sun.

My sense of idealism. A unicorn to help, save, contribute, ideate, to challenge, to disagree, more than fair; equitable. A vision, a dream, the ideal, the optimist. The never ending energy to fight for justice.

My sense of humour, friendship, kinship and love. Completely forgiving, completely openminded, completely compassionate, completely empathetic, completely ready to turn the cheek. Completely ready to burn political correctness. Completely ready to share every inch of my life. Completely flexible. Open, honest, courageous.

My sense of dignity. A hope that others can be more dignified than they really are. That for one second we could see the other point of view.

Forgiveness. Life should be as light as possible. And no one should carry around a sack of hate. A sack of resentment. Pain and hurt. Only pack the good stuff, the optimism, the hopes, wishes, bests. Ain’t nobody got time for that negative shit.

The fears, tears and anger. Powerful emotions are they. Lead us to the dark side, they can. Strength and power are they too.

Righteous fear, righteous anger. Tears of joy, love, hope, grief, dignity, pride, accomplishment, laughter, fear, sadness, pain, hopes, rebirth, new life, old life, revelations, forgiveness, dreams.

Waiting Room

And then there is waiting. All the things I’ve written; have, can, will, might, could, should happen. But in what order and at what time?

When will fighting become thriving? When will uncertainty become confidence?

When the door closes, a window opens somewhere else.

When will I be able to share? All waiting ends eventually. It’s a matter of finding the window