you punch them again and again and again, but because they're weighted on the bottom, they just annoyingly pop back up every single time. and that stupid clown, my friends, is what i feel like so often in life.
i feel like i am constantly getting knocked down, crushed by bout after bout of winding blows. and yet, i have to somehow figure out how to get back up and dust myself off, just to be knocked down again. wtf. my, what a glutton for punishment i am.
but no, if i think of it another way, i have to laud myself for my resiliency. and i do. because sometimes i take a look at the landscape around me and i see other punching bags that have lost their fight. they got too tired, too timid, too scared, too hurt, and so they deflated themselves. they let someone or something else take their air out and steal their light from right underneath their noses. what a shame, because there is another way...
every time i get knocked down, i get to keep that scar, that trauma, that lesson, that weight. because i earned it. and i get to add it to the pile of weights at my bottom. and over time, with every hurt that i am willing to endure and take on, i actually become sturdier and more stable. it's going to be harder and harder to knock me off of my center.
yeah, so keep punching, life. i got this.
(nyc)
