growing and transforming into who I’m meant to be is an arduous process. rather than feeling like an emerging butterfly in some exquisite metaphor, I feel like a dusty archaeologist, hovering over a dig, wielding tiny brushes to unearth giant dinosaur bones that will later be assembled and put on display.
I ache as if I’ve been in one position too long. I’m tired of not having a full picture of how things should look. I’m thirsty for a break in the struggle yet am hooked on the excitement of each discovery. I resent when people push dirt back my way, covering up progress.
the sun is high in my life and there seems to be no shade. no shelter. but I don’t want to give up and lie among the ruins. I want to live and love and push through until I am flayed by life and my bones have no choice but to fall from sheer exhaustion.