Gratitude. I’ve been hearing and seeing a lot about gratitude. I am grateful for many things. I am forgetting to remember them. I wonder how simple this all is, this healing business. How easy could it be? I already feel much better from yesterday, having renounced, for now, my masochism. The more you practice something, the better you become. The more I practice my misery, the better I am at being miserable- so adversely, the more I practice happiness, the happier I become. The healthier I become. The better an artist I can be, if I’m healthy. I can’t find the impetus to do it merely for myself, though I know myself to be nothing mere. Do I really know? Do I really understand the weight that my life has, the impact I have, the worth and value of myself? I wouldn’t say so. I don’t know if many people do. I suppose that’s why we need each other. That’s definitely one reason we need each other. 

Slowly, I can feel the ice thawing. I can feel a small something of something becoming alive again. A touch of happy hunger. A pang, a contraction, a nudge of a dream being born. It seems light years away now, but maybe, maybe it’s a bit closer than that. 

About Undecided Pseudonym

A woman who remembers enjoying writing.
Aside | This entry was posted in Non-Fiction and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.