ruthless. 1_1

It’s my time.
  My energy
   My resources.
    My thoughts.
      My actions.
       My voice.
        My body.
          My life.

And I can do with them what I want.
It will be good enough, if I think it is.
It is perfect because I love it.

Sometimes I wonder, if I’ve confused being myself with having my way.

How could I forget how it feels to see you happy?
How could I possibly forget that all the warmth and love in the world can be found in that moment?

When you’re smiling, it’s fantastic.

How come I could only remember how tiresome it was to get there?

All the chores that had to be done. All the effort that was expended. All the work.

How did I forget?
How did I forget the end?

What it was all for, the sweetest thing.

My greatest love, to see you happy.

Rustling, rustling, forever rustling.

Never still.

Loud, scratching and crinkling.

My mind can’t stop, it just keeps thinking.

Why, oh why, oh why am I like this?

And some days you remember what hard work really means.

Day in. Day out.

To take pride in the mundane.

To see value in the bitterness.

To feel fulfilled in trying.

I can’t seem to keep up with myself.

“Faster, move faster,” I plead once more.

Flooding my mind, obscuring the road.

It’s never enough.

Does that make it a waste?  

At times it’s inescapable.

Soft laughter that bubbles forth.
Smiles that silently crack open.
Joy that gradually expands.

As much as I might sulk and wallow.

The good times keep coming.
Finding me, no matter where I hide.
And I am so thankful that they do.

Reminding me, that light shines through.

I know I’m not good at sharing my time. My energy. My focus.

Myself.

But I’m trying, I promise.

And every time I fall, I try a little harder.

Because I think it’s only now that I’ve realised what’s truly important to share.

I’m still learning, I hope you know that.

You need not wait.

But I shall not rush.

Instead, I’ll say, for the fifth time that day.

“Look, there’s cows.”

And I will stand there.

Till my heart is no longer hungry.

Only then can I continue to amble forth once more.

For I do not think my eyes will ever be full.

Why did I stop asking myself what I wanted to be when I grow up?

When did it change to what I wanted to have when I grow up?