Is it Possible.

Is it possible?

That I cannot see all the ugly in me deep enough? I can’t see all that’s actually really there. All that makes it so unbearable that I’m not even worth wasting a breath on to explain why one must escape me?

Is it possible?

That I cannot see all the beauty in me true enough? I can’t see the gold that lines my wings, nor the light that stays as I leave. Everything I possibly am but yet search validation for in order to see.

Is it possible.

That I’m not more nor less. That this is what we are. Bodies. Spirits. And Souls.

We’re ugly. We’re beautiful. We hurt. We heal. We hate. We love. We do what’s done to us, to others, for others to do what’s done to them, on us. We hurt the ones we love, to love the ones who hurt us. We do for others what others don’t do for us. We love in ways no one will love us.

And because of this we are all the same. We are all the same because we are so different, and yet we all taste unhappiness in searching for people who are the same. Because the same people do not exist. Only our same unhappiness, same hurt, same love, same wishes. Same inability to appreciate what we have until it’s gone.

Is it possible because we are all bodies. Bodies that are just bodies and because we are the same, we will never be happy looking for happiness within one another.

Is it possible.

I’m just a body.

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