Detonate

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Tick. Tock. 

Time walks forward. 

Why am I not moving? 

Frozen. 

Eyes on me; stripping me naked. 

Exposed.

Whispers in the air…

They know…they know about me. 

Truth.

Stop it. 

Tick. Tock. 

Stop it. Stop moving… Time, stop moving. 

Be still.

Like me. 

I’ve ran out of places to hide. Where to?

Here? There?

Stop. 

Don’t you see? 

I’m on the verge of exploding.

Detonate.

My Denial

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 With my circumstances, denial was an escape from the brutal reality that I suffered as a child. 

Denial gave me security; I felt safe not accepting. 

Denial empowered me with control over myself; I chose who I was, how I acted when in reality I was none of the above. 

Denial kept me away from all external harm of others, but in the shadows, the real harm lurked in secret; myself.

To be or not to be. Even now, I debate with myself. Because denial is safety, and how can we adapt to something so…unfamiliar?

Champion

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  As I am sitting on the toilet, listening to River by Bishop Riggs and taking care of my business; yes, I am taking a sh**, I yell at my husband, “WHAT DO YOU THINK OF THE WORD CHAMPION?”
His response, “Why?”

My facial expression becomes bland and I yell in response, “BECAUSE IT’S PART OF MY BLOGGING!”

Moments of silence passed. 

“I AM THE BEST.” He yells back. 

 I Am The Best echoes in my mind and I smile. 

“Genius.” I whisper to myself. 

To become or to feel like a champion can start with different routes, but it all ends the same… WITH YOU.

Thus, I end this piece with proper hygiene and a positive phrase!

Many thanks to my loving husband.

Rainy Days

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What is it about rainy days?

    I look up to the sky.

    Small droplets of water.

    Falling. 

    Hitting my face and refreshing my skin.

    Colors

    The grass. 

    The soil. 

    The flowers.

    The concrete ground.

    Every color enhanced before my eyes 

    revealing the true color of nature.

    Gloom

    Emotion that I hold dear.

    Memories reflected. 

    Necessary. 

    What is it about rainy days?


    Lovingly

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    His soft, long hands wiping my tears

    His voice is enought to push away my fears 

    Goodnight kiss fills me with bliss

    His loving stare makes my butterflies go wild

    Beer and movie; simple date night.

    His love. 

    His love.

    Successful

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    #Successful #DailyPost

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     The meaning behind the word successful comes in many forms. Everyone has their own definition of what it means to be successful. Whether it’s finally achieving the career you’ve always thrived for, purchasing a new house, or even something as simple as bringing joy to others. 

    I had to learn to feel successful everyday. I had to learn that everything that i do, whether it’s something new or repeated, it is my own. I am the one making it happen.

      I am bringing forth my strength, my courage, my knowledge, my emotions, myself, to make everything I do a success. I may not make it happen the first, second, or the third time, but i am trying and I love that I AM.

    “Success is liking yourself, liking what you do, and liking how you do it.” – Maya Angelou

    Exposure

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     Trigger. 

    This word causes shivers down my spine.

      Exposure meant vulnerability and lack of self respect. For me, this word encouraged my perpertrators to continue their daily, sexual, abuse towards me. 

     Exposure only converted me into a lifeless sex toy whose only function was to reboot herself to please the needs of others.

     Exposure took my innocence and turned it upside down. 

     Exposure. Why does this one word cause this trigger?

     I refuse. I cannot. I will not. My mind dragged these words around and around. 

    Exposure. 

    Trigger. 

    Scenes

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    Filters of absent colors sorrounded my vision. These delusional obstacles prohibited me from seeing the wonders in front of me. I walked, step by step, and all that my mind would transfer to me was solitude and the one question that has forever haunted me, “Why am i still here?”

    Filters of gray that transcended my thoughts and incorporated them into my daily life so my legs would not give up, so my lungs would still try to embrace the cleansing air that i found to be a burden.

    These imaginary filters that my young mind adapted to, was the sole reason why my younger self was capable of looking at her sorroundings and not feel an ounce of attachment.

    Attachment lead to the disgusting reasons to have my body, soul, and mind stained once again. 

    Attachment lead to the betrayal that transformed me to a creature from an unknown dimension. Filters prohibited attachment.

    My filters gave me a new cloud that covered my vision and mind from the truth and reality. My filters brought me a massive wave that pulled me down to a darkness that i called my “safe zone.”

    My filter began at the age of 2 years old.