Rooting

My efforts are meek. They represent the chasm between victim and vulnerable.

Give me rest.

I don’t know how much further I can go. So I sit and suffer, I try and triumph, but I can’t keep the rhythm.

Sit and Suffer. Try and Triumph.

Sit and Suffer. Try and Suffer.

Sit. Sit. Sit.

I watched her cascade along the path of achieved non suffering.

How did you get here?

Where did you discover the will to keep on and now that you are here,

what roots you?

Because for myself, I choose suffering

every single day.

And that’s the thing about an overly saturated archetype: suffering becomes an option.

I will never choose the nape of her neck – I choose longing.

I will never choose the joy of a meal – I choose portions.

I will never choose the comfort of a relationship – I choose fear.

I will never choose the knowledge of literature – I choose gluttony.

Sit and Suffer. Try and Triumph.

Sit and Suffer.

Try. Try. Try.

Miss Parisia B.

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