Change is a Decision

Start by making a step in the direction of change…Keep putting one foot in front of the other…It wont be long before you look back and realize it would be a change to go back…

Simple Tom

Change is a Decision

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Serenity Courage Wisdom

You sit, the music plays loud.  Your stomach twisted in knots.  The lies you hear are heavy. More come. The reason escapes your ability to understand why.  You will stop it.  It will crush you to watch.  You know you should look away.  You cannot. You are tired.  You try to get the normalcy back. Your spun 360, face to face with the same shit, over and again. 

You want to move on.  It consumes you.  You run the pictures of words on a loop.  It never stops. You pray for serenity. It is the calm contentment that will slow your run. You feel the freedom you have earned in your struggle.  You broke away long ago.  You keep looking back for a glimpse of recognition.  It is not there. You cannot recall when it was. 

A place you adore. The hot morning sun burning your skin as your dreams fade.  You can smell the bacon, hear the voices laughing.  You look down, the water cool, reflecting back at you like a mirror.  You feel the tears burn your checks.  A moment remembered is all you have of a life that is no longer yours. You pray for courage.

You look down to your calm, the cool blue mirror looking back. You jump, the rush of the freedom filling you. You know the mistakes you have made.  They are your own. To learn from them, or not, is your choice.  God is always patient.  You grow tired of being right.  He still there.  Decisions, choices, repercussions begin to mix.  You can no longer tell which are yours to accept.  You get stung, trying to untangle the mess.  You look up, towards the Wisdom, and pray.  The light comes down engulfing your storm, leaving you free. My Lake

Picasso Of The Lopsided

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Pablo Picasso - L´Arlequin
 (photo: oddsock)

When your family acts if you do not exist it is extremely liberating.  It is natural to want approval from them concerning everything you do.  As a child you bring home the clay pot that looks like crap, but you do not know that, and your parents do not see it as that.  They look at it with big eyes and smile at you. You watch their reaction and think you are the freaking Picasso of lopsided clay creations.

By the time you are an adult you know their looks of judgment. You know the tone they speak to each other in when they disapprove of your new clay pot.  While a piece of it will always reflect how you were raised, once into adulthood the creation is your own experiences.  You can see endless colors reflecting as the sun drifts off to sleep, waking the night with purple and pink.  Your clay becomes soaked in bright and bold.  You are once again the Picasso of your creation. However they cannot see it, their color blindness allowing only the black and white to exist.