ghost castle

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what i'm fighting for

i sit and think. i get to the root of things. i forgive myself. i let things go. i move on. i feel the weight lift, maybe just a bit. i feel my soul shift. i feel the difference in myself, in my spine and in my eyes. i feel different. i feel refreshed. and i think,

this is what i'm fighting for.

my body shakes, my chest hurts, i'm covered in sweat. i hate it. i'm so uncomfortable with myself, with this effort. disinvested from wanting to get better, but knowing it will help. so i do it anyway. til my eyes sting and my legs shake and my arms burn and god damnit i just want to stop forever. but i do it anyway, because when i'm done i'm happy. and i think,

this is what i'm fighting for.

but sometimes, i sit in complete silence, lonely silence, darkness, when i feel i'm falling. and in my mindless wandering i am hit time and time and time again by rocks from misfortunate slings looking to bury my hope. i see hate and anger billowing like smoke from fires burning in all of our hands. the tragedy, the sorrow, that's turned into a weapon and fired like arrows at anyone deemed a target. the lack of empathy. the unwillingness to just be another human, the same human.

and sometimes, i look at my hands, and the ruin they've built; and i look at my feet, and the rut they've carved; and i look at my eyes, and the dying ember in them; and i look at my lips, and all the things they dam up; and i look at my hair, and the shame it hides in my face; and i think,

this is what i'm fighting for?


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