Slowly succeeding

So shutting reality out is wrong. 

There will always be someone who can give more than I can,

and even give differently than I can.

This is as good a time as any to release all that I need to. 

I'm nearly ready to stop clinging to air. 

I will coax the bits of me from those who have taken them,

for they are no longer needed by anyone but myself. 

I was taught to never love anyone else more than I loved myself.

This used to be a more arduous way of thought, being that I hated myself.

But this feels slightly different. 

See, there was a time where I was willing to allow my heart to collapse for someone else

if they ever needed it. 

But once I actually collapsed beneath the happiness of someone else,

I began to ponder if my suffering was truly worth someone else's smile.

I decided that it was not.

There is only one of me and she was not meant

to live beneath a crash or her own uncertainty. 

I need to remember that for my entire existence, 

I will never stop growing.

The mind will transcend the body's limitations.

My feelings toward this evolution sway in the midst of fear and acceptance.

I'm sick of needing those who no longer have the place in their hearts for me as I do them. 

If only moving to a different suburb would mend my sorrows. 
But is this even sorrow?

I'm not sure if I feel the same sadness that I held before. 

Afterall, things can always get worse.

And being me, they most certainly will. 

Is there a way to prevent it? 

Not that I can think of at the moment, or any other moment in the past for that matter.

In fact, I doubt I'll be the human to cure the common procrastination of disaster.

Or maybe I've been postponing my disaster for so long already,

so now the building I've made needs to topple over. 

I hope that it does in silence,

because I can only do so much to silence myself as it does.

I don't need another weepy Tuesday night, 

but I've no doubt that there will be plenty more.

I sort of wished that those happened of Fridays,

because you wouldn't catch me anywhere then.

But no, 

it's always the ever public Monday, 

the press-released Tuesday,

or the populated Wednesday.

On occassion I'll get the not-so-predictably-publicized Thursday.

Friday's are nice days as they symbolize the end, but everything gets a do-over.

And sometimes the end isn't as sweet because one longs for continuation.

It's much easier to think in terms of beginnings and endings because 

we are all in between.

Beginnings and endings make people feel like their time on this earth truly matters. 

While there's a comfort in the knowledge that you are a small part of the world,

no pressure and that.

But sometimes,

the tenderness in knowing that you,

one piece of that puzzle nearly clicks with another,

and you're important is essential to a sane mind. 

This isn't necessarily one of my Fridays,

but it is the end of something,

slightly shocking the rest of the world awake.

The Mondays will come, as will the Tuesday's, Wednesday's and Thursday's. 

And hopefully in the preceeding ones,

I will be happily placed in the pubic eye. 

Human Dignity + Compassion = Peace.