Me Before . . . and Still

If I step quietly and walk in silence, will I find the end of this road? Crooked and bizarre, this journey I find myself traveling, alone and independent, sometimes claws at my spirit, but still I go on because that’s who I am. Strong, resilient, I keep bouncing back from the horrors inflicted by strangers, those who mean nothing to me yet who still manage to scar me deeply. I search for peace, for contentment, for love, yet these things are elusive, faded by a mist of misunderstanding by me about how to live my life. What surrounds me wounds me, yet still I reach for it. Like an abused baby clinging to her mother, I look for love under the pain. Is it there, or am I just a dreamer?

What I would like to know is – how do I get off this wildass merry-go-round so I can fly on the swings and learn how to laugh?


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