I have no inspiration
What has happened to me?
I used to be the most creative person
I felt creative.
I'm struggling to understand
The weird thing of
"Growing up"
That everyone doesn't understand.
Nowadays,
I feel like every work I make has this standard-
My mental standard-
That absolutely
Everything
I make has to be...
Perfect
That perfection,
That standard,
Will one day
Be the death of me.
I always felt like
When I am meant to be older
That I was going to be a writer
A novelist.
A fiction novelist.
I really don't think
That my grandmother would approve.
She does not approve of anything that goes into my head.
She thinks I'm crazy.
She thinks I'm weird.
But truly,
I am abstract.
Like a painting.
I am abstract.
Just like my mother.
Just like a stranger.
Just like my grandmother herself.
Just like a human being.
But you see,
Some people don't always
"Accept"
Some people don't always
"Agree"
"Agree" with your artwork of a human body with self expressions.
"Approve" of your standards
But you see,
We are all "unique"
We are all simply an abstract painting of ourselves.
Whether we are clear like the summer skies
Or our lives are rainy like spring air
Or maybe we are very messy like the fall
Or our souls may be as cold as the winter.
And maybe, the people who don't approve made us that way.
But we all have to accept
Rain or shine,
Cold, warm, messy, clean…
We all have to accept,
Every single one of us,
Is that we are human
And no matter what society,
Especially our own family
Say about us,
We are all our own beautiful abstract paintings of our own galaxies.
In our own lives and bodies and souls
We are all our own type of beautiful.
And if somebody does not like us,
Then we accept it and move on.
Because that's what humans do.
We move on.
We should love ourselves no matter what
And that is just your daily reminder.
