The way your parents loved you is the way you learn to love yourself. A part of growing up is learning to take care of yourself like your parents took care of you when you were little. Unfortunately not everyone was cared for and loved they way they needed to, and this is often reflected in the way they later take care of and love themselves.
As an Empath I can merge
with any life form,
becoming life itself manifested
in flight, gills, earthlings and heart.
I lose my grip on my individuality and
float on your humming strings,
expand on your wings and dive
into your dark.
I even get lost in conflicting
tones unable to decipher your cadence
from my own.
That is why I need my art.
Art becomes: another you, another life,
my own heart, gills, wings.
I merge with the life form we call
the soul. My soul.
I drown in this depth only to re-emerge
on another surface having become myself
fully, wholly, holy, fulfillingly
myself.
Defensiveness is NOT confidence.
Having the last word is NOT confidence.
Raising your voice louder than is NOT confidence.
Standing tall is NOT standing above.
True confidence is the soul’s immune system,
Knowing who you are independent of
other people’s opinions.
Knowing who you are and
calmly being yourself without needing
to prove or affirm yourself.
True confidence is meeting people
with empathy detached from your own ego,
seeing the soul behind the words expressed.
When you are truly confident you never question
your worth or your ability to love
and be loved in return.
When you are truly confident you never question
other people’s worth or their ability to love
and be loved in return.
When you are truly confident there is no need
to stand up for yourself because
you already are standing.
It is only when we
learn
to love
the ugliness
within,
accepting that the
beast
is just another form of
beauty
hiding behind
self-loathing
and insecurity
that we can become
a whole rose
again
with days and days of
wild blooming
ahead of us.
Unsaid words
stuck
in my throat
breaking
reflections
engaging
alarms
resonating
in my
heart
making it
throttle
pushing
me
to
fight
or
run
for
my life.
I’d rather
lose
myself
than see you
lose
in life.
I’d rather
be the one
crying
than see you
hurt.
And no,
this is not
a love poem.
“You”
are the one reading
this poem
and everyone
who is not.
You see,
if it is my
pain,
it is mine
to heal.
If it is your
pain,
it is still mine
but not mine
to heal.
Sometimes
I have to
force
myself
to stand
still.
Breathing
through
my feet
to feel
that
I am
still standing
on
solid ground.
Conversing with
myself
before
sunrise
is essential
to
re-establish
the connection with
myself
that usually
hides
in plain
daylight.
it wasn’t
your fault.
But
the responsibility
to heal
still falls
on you.
Going through
hell,
you learn
that it’s your
tears
that make you
fireproof.
