I’m told it is the choices we make that dictate who we become. But what inspired those choices? What was the argument in our head, however brief, that led to the decision(s) we make?

This isn’t a poem. Just questions. I’m thinking about this journey. Weightloss. Love. Success. All things not 10 years ago I thought I did not deserve and would never see. I chose the wrong voices to listen to.


One day I listened to the other voice. The voice that said some one will love you for you. You deserve that. The voice that said if you want success, go get it. The voice that, just recently, said commit to this and weightloss is yours. This walk scares me the most. I’m sure because it has been the most affecting. And, to a point has affected the other parts of soul that suffer from insecurity. Even today it keeps me hesistant. Hidden behind a veil. I have become conditioned that I am loveable only through my words. Yet, this has been disproven many times over. But…

Why is it easier to listen to voices that agree with us about what we cannot do?

House of Pain

We are all demanded at Pain’s doorstep. We gather our things, particularly our heart and its many lamentations, and find ourselves slaves to Pain’s will. Footsteps so heavy they drag discord across the tile. Minds so distracted the sunlight shining through only offsets shadows of memories we, Pain’s indentured servants, scrub to no avail. Chances we did not take, love lost or unrequited or overindulged, follow us around like ghosts waiting to move to the final beyond. We all pay penitence to Pain in one life time. We carry the scars of time served in our bravery to move forward, our bitterness to look back, or our relunctance to move at all. The survivor’s trail reads like a worn stretch of Indian road; dirty and tear-soaked. Outside awaiting our footprints like Pain’s best kept secret. Realization skipping about until we capture it in plain sight. Dawning our new beginning: Forever comes tomorrow. Forever a new day.