Beautiful Life

I am jotting down this note and there is notable discomfort in my right hand, unable to hold the pen properly, my used to be beautiful penmanship now a frustration struggle, I try to ignore it, put it behind me and smile. It works.  No one knows that my hand is now hurting me, my crooked pinky finger stubborn and stiff, she said she was going to kill me, but I was already dying…

I close my bedroom door, take off all my clothes, I like to be naked, I like my skin.  Nothing feels better than the freedom of just being, stealing glances at me staring back at me.  Feeling beautiful and free.  Then she yells my name…my grandmother, she has guests and requires me to be social, instead of locked up with my depression, only leaving this shell for water, food and bathroom breaks.  She yells incessantly too while I drag on my clothes and reach deep for a rehearsed smile….

My phone rings, and my mother…my super unexpected supporter, asks me how much is the electricity bill and when is it due.  She grumbles about being broke, yet still finds money to do anything to make me happy, from a chocolate bar to a trip to the salon. She pays my bills, she loves me…

He was like my friend sometimes my son and I loved him, beautiful soul I thought.  He understood my situation, listened to me was a shoulder I cried on many days…and played my favourite song so I could dance, took flowers for my hair.  He knew everything and I felt he seriously wanted to see me happy, that was the reason he helped me.  Suddenly I am not too sure why, he became an enemy, telling people things I told him in secret, moving my furniture out my apartment, publicly dissing me.  No conversation, no question, no telling me what I did wrong.  Stories morphing and piling up…friends becoming enemies…when I didn’t believe in the theory of an enemy and certainly not how friends who saw you at your most vulnerable, shared with you, laughed and cried, can become enemies, speaking so ill about you and believing so many lies.


I loved her more than I loved myself, on the first day I met her, she quietly ripped through my walls like a hot knife and butter…easily…and I gave it everything I had and could.  All that I had and until I was empty and spent, nothing was coming back.  I lost it and then lost it ALL…

And life is beautiful, while some lessons are hard, but its is even more beautiful then.


I believe that in this life, there is nothing but self and God, the lessons we learn from our experiences with other people, be it good or bad is all about our relationship with God and the lessons the universe needs to communicate to us. For the times we do not listen…or fail to communicate we must be reminded, sometimes gravely of what we are about in this life. I am grateful for people, experiences, life and its lesson…the good, the bad and the unbelievable. I am excited by its dynamism, thrilled by its unpredictability, and humbled by its wisdom and honoured to be its love. I AM…NAMASTE…WE ARE.


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