What keeps me grounded
I write my pain and fears away, seeking refuge in the whiteness and purity of an unsullied paper to neutralize my dark emotions. I do not know what I'm feeling but I desperately need to latch onto something. It seems that I'm helplessly sinking or I'm being devoured by something I cannot define. I am lost. Who am I when I am alone? Who am I when nobody defines me?
Ah, but an inner voice tells me that I am the things that I can do. I am the things that I can feel. I am the things that I am.
I am the music that I create, the words that I write. I am love, I am happiness. I am compassion. I am an obsessive-compulsive friend. I am not fear or sadness though these are feelings that overcome me now. For I know that in my heart of hearts, there resides a strength that will pull me out of this mire. I know. I know. I know.
Ah, but an inner voice tells me that I am the things that I can do. I am the things that I can feel. I am the things that I am.
I am the music that I create, the words that I write. I am love, I am happiness. I am compassion. I am an obsessive-compulsive friend. I am not fear or sadness though these are feelings that overcome me now. For I know that in my heart of hearts, there resides a strength that will pull me out of this mire. I know. I know. I know.