.: Oxymoronic :.

Every day is just like a breeze. Sit down. Stand up. Direct. Control.
Throw a little hissy fit. Praise. Reward. Be flattered. Count admirers.
Sit down again and do a smug smile. No struggle. I am a total
powerhouse of confidence. Walking without worry.

I count my blessings each passing day. Due gratitude is given to things
I acquire and experience. Sometimes, mood swings and frustration get in
the way but just a like a sudden spark, it’s relatively temporary. All
I become out of them is a reinforced fortress. All better. Much
improved.

Everything changes in solitude.

All I am is a mere turtle. Treading so sluggishly and delicately. Only
protected by a carapace of pretend. A hollow, heavy mass with no other
purpose but to encase a feeble, vulnerable spirit of false longing and
pride. With a dire intention of eliminating self-guilt and
desolateness, the turtle that I am chose to carry the external burden
rather than impetuously sprint to the ocean of surrender.

I, the turtle, definitely is crawling, but it’s crawling nonetheless.
Yet, the sea will consume me and I can glide lightly and freely.

Still, I’d rather have the shell crushed and expose how yearning I am after all this time…