life gave me lemons / & i don’t know how to make lemonade / everyone around me is dancing through life / finding joy & laughter in the simplest of things / they say to live life to the fullest / to experience everything it has to offer /but how can i live my life to the fullest if every day is a struggle just to survive?
if every moment feels like i’m drowning in lemons & the sweet taste of lemonade is but a distant dream?
i feel like i'm just going through the motions / existing but not living /
when i try to imagine a brighter future / it's like the lemon’s tartness gets in my eyes / stinging & blinding me / i just want to find a way to make the sourness of life palatable the way others seem able to do / i don’t want to just survive / i want to live /
everyone around me seems to know the recipe / they find ways to make even the most difficult situations bearable / & i know that in theory / i can “make lemonade” out of life’s lemons / after all / every life / no matter how full of lemons / still presents the opportunity to find sweetness / but in practice / it feels like the lemons come too fast and in such overwhelming numbers that i can’t seem to keep up / & when the lemons come in fast and furiously / no amount of sugar can make them taste sweet.
i wonder sometimes if i’m just not meant to make lemonade / maybe i’m allergic to lemons / & just can’t taste the sweetness within / or maybe i just haven’t found the right mixture of sugar & water to balance out the acidity /
the world is full of people who have taken life’s lemons and turned them into something sweet / something worth savouring / i watch as they squeeze their lemons into a pitcher of lemonade / laughing and making the most of every sour slice.
why can’t i do the same?
what do they know that i don’t?
how do they make something good out of something so bitter and astringent?
if only i could find the secret to making lemonade out of life’s lemons / but for now / i’ll keep looking / hoping that someday i’ll find a way to turn life’s sourness into something delicious & refreshing /
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the still waters
Poetryi stared into the abyss of blue‚ ripples distorting the image of a stranger. ﹛ a potpourri of words ﹜