She’d been justifying her existence the whole time.
She despised her flaws and neglected her blessings.
Self love meant nothing if not acknowledged by those outside...
She constantly wavered in how she “deserved” to feel rather than how she did feel,
and the loss of so many things, nearly herself, was nowhere near worth the cost.
She was justifying her existence the whole time,
because she felt she didn’t have what was needed.
She was shrouded in all that could have been rather than focusing on all that was.
She refused to relinquish those feelings of self doubt and indifference because of what she thought she was lacking--
But nevertheless she continued to find ways she could make up the difference.
So she justified her existence
with external things. With tasks, with materials she didn’t truly need.
And it took so long to realize her efforts were futile;
a romanticized future destined to diminish itself from the inside out.
She was running a race with no ending, with no competitors because none of it was really real.
She’s ashamed to admit her origins, oh
how long she’s feared to say these words:
when freedom sweeps across a tender face with blessings of an almighty resistance,
this is when there is no turning back.
Though it’s only natural to waver a new realization has struck:
that sometimes when running from yourself you can’t help but to eventually run into yourself
through those griping months and wearisome days.
She was justified the whole time.
She didn’t need something or someone to justify her existence because her mere presence was already justified.
It was blessed it was beautiful it was a bud simply waiting to be watered.
And as the bud blooms an entire new creation is found,
and a new light blazes for all of those to behold.