A new kind of beauty to embrace and to celebrate.
There’s no room for shame here.
There’s a power that pushes through from within;
There’s a power that will push out and bring my bloody insides with it…
But that’s something of a pain that I’d love to succumb to, in a natural, agony-sedating, physical rage.
I’m learning that weakness isn’t always weakness, that weakness can can eat you up in a beautiful and majestic way.
And that weakness can make you fall in love
with drunken fatigue,
with needles that spit things into you and
with pins that suck and draw reddish-purplish blood from you,
with bleeding gums,
with aching joints,
with vomit and
with a buffet of other revolting things.
And the seemingly-breathless lungs keep you in a perpetual gasp, as though you yourself were swimming through a watery fluid made of electrolytes, proteins, carbohydrates, lipids, urea and other things that take me back to my high school Biology lab.
It’s apparently ugly, but miraculously gorgeous:
It’s a new kind of beauty to embrace and to celebrate.
And there is no room for shame here.
Just pride and strange things and a new me.