Unable to write is almost like unable to breathe.
As if I am getting some air, but never a full breath. An emotional monster begins to take over. I become unreasonable, moody and depressed.
Invisible bars are the worst kind. You can not convince anyone that you are jailed, and they’ll never understand if you try.
The bars blend in so well at times that even I am convinced they are not there. I forget they exist and carry on with life. But I can feel them.
Every time I take a step toward myself, every time I remember who I am and every time that I seek my own truths. They appear before me and remind me.
I own them. I put them there. Only I can take them down.
Many people continue living with half breaths. They simply accept the circumstances and compromise everything. It’s easier than going to war.
Too many people settle when everything is possible.