I don't know what I'm thinking about.
It's like standing in a field teaming with fireflies trying to catch just one. The most beautiful, the most promising, but it's impossible to know from such a distance.
I distance my thoughts early in the morning lest I cling to one too soon and mold my day in a way I'll later grow weary of. Because thinking of life makes me weary, thinking of love makes me anxious and to realize that I'm so close to jaded fades every beautiful thought that my head so diligently seeks.
It's weak, succumbing to fear, to pity, and the fear of pity simultaneously. I find myself shunning my humanity and the feebleness I'm subjected to because of it when I realize how many eyes look to me for examples of what to be...
and I fall short, often, I get lost in what is, what was and what could be while I should be emitting signals of strength through imperfection, since that's what they need...
To see the foolish in my size confound the strong, the wise. To be a symbol of hope for those who don't even have the rope to put their backs to.
Sometimes it feels like my fire is encased, like it's just for show like it's not catching like it'll never grow past the glow inside me because how can I save anyone when I'm lost in my own thoughts, trying to figure out why I'm hiding.
Kimolee Eryn is an artist and writer who believes in creating for a purpose beyond the purpose of creating. She believes that a life should be lived not just to sustain itself but to cultivate peace, love and growth in all adjacent beings and hopes to exemplify that in all she does.