best blessed, worst wicked

My attitude has shifted. A significant reprieve of light that I will enjoy for a time. Coming clean is a powerful source. All the shame I was harboring. Judging and criticizing myself for. I am a fool if I think I am a failure or have truly failed. Breath is in my body, and I have never stopped doing what I love.

Even when I have felt stale or stagnant, I have advocated for the truest life intentions I have. I will not abandon the child I was, so sure of who I am. Because in this moment, I see it. Coalescing and coming to save me from my shadow again. Judging myself on how little I have accomplished. When trying to see the outcome of my future, my past only serves to blind me further. The future is opaque, with glimpses behind the veil that entice me. Trick me into thinking that if I can quantify my successes, surely it will add up to exactly what I want out of life. It’s foolish and short-sighted. Because what I can’t see is often better than what I can.

It’s untrue and unnecessary. Because if I listen to myself in this moment, I can hear exactly what I need. Another London Fog, to write on every surface imaginable, to listen to Bring Me The Horizon like it’s new age religion. The church of processing pain. The shadow thoughts you keep locked away will suffocate you, put a noose around your spirit’s neck, and kick the chair from underneath.

But in coming clean to you, to Chordy, to my family, to anyone that will hear or read liberates me. There is no need to omit the bleeding, the scars, the chronic pain housed in my carapace. In my heart. In my chest, spirit, and mind. This pain is a shared condition. This suffering a shared condition. It’s relieving to know that you hurt like me. And I hurt like you. I cherish it, I cherish you. And I hope you cherish your best blessed and worst wicked. Love, Jules