Struggle Has Value

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Another one of those thoughts that I was not sure where to post. Have actually not been in the forum for a week or two, been busy . . . and tired and perhaps a little forlorn. But here it goes.
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Sometimes remembered pain can be worth more than imagined goodness. Reality is precious in all forms. A scar is a sign of another day survived, another tear dried away. Not everyone is lucky enough to walk away from battle, those who do are stronger for it. The world is filled with the idea of goodness and valor and love but few are filled with how real it is to be good, how hard it is to love and be braver for it.

Unique is a word everyone covets, yet when presented everyone fears it, ignores it, repudiates the very forms of it. When we look different we are questioned. When we think differently we are told to remold. When we express differently we are ignored or disregarded.

Sometimes remembered losses have more to teach than thin victories, or perceived triumph. What else is there to do if there is nothing to struggle and fight for?

Memories are made more precious with the passing of time, and wounds that heal make pain better remembered by it.

In my pursuit of acceptance I have found that the acceptance of others is menial. Acceptance of myself is what matters. At the end of the day, when the sun has hidden behind the horizon, and the lights go out in the sky, when I close my eyes to sleep at night, not knowing, as every night, if I will wake in the morning, it is I what I have. No one will die for me, or live through me and at the end of all things We will only have ourselves. Shared joy is transitory. Shared pleasure is never as rich.

Just because I can use words for expression my neurological differences are always discarded. My helplessness of interacting with a word that has rules for everything will never make an impact in the world. My failures will never affect anyone but me, my glory will be personal and short lived.

But I will fight my battles and will savor every step I fail and every step I earn.

Scarred and Alive.

Moving and Able.

Caged and Singing.

did you write that? it's good

Yeap. I wrote it =). I write a lot. Words come easier this way, than spoken. Usually I get labeled as overly dramatic when I do talk the way I think and I think out loud quite a lot. Been told that I should be considerate of the time that others pay to my speech and therefore not waste it.

Oh well. Spurr of the moment time!!
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Slivers of silence are platinum
Writhing with the wind in our minds
Thoughts are golden until shared
Then tarnished copper when they leave the mouth

Unappreciated thunder
Through our blood it sunders
Imagination unchained
Torn but alive
Wounded but healing
Truth unabaited

I've had a very similar experience to yours. Thank you for sharing your story.

And thank you for reading it. =)

thats beautiful and affirming to read. thank you. so was the poem. you should publish in real life.

The publishing world is way too competitive. It used to be one of my aspirations. Now I write because I like it and in a sense I just published. I even got readers right here =)

I will try blogging. Though I have made them before and gotten no following, at all. But I can try it and see if you guys want to read it. When I make it I will post the link here.