Life is Beautiful

Life is beautiful. And it’s mine.
It’s full of colour and surprising events.
It hurts.
But the greater our quality of life,
The more it hurts.
So we endure the pain to reap the rewards.
And as it hurts, we smile.
Because it reminds us that we are alive.
And we are happy to be alive.

And I,
I am not like the others.
I will always see the beauty
Inspite of the pain.
Because I am strong and I am wise.

I. Am. Self. Aware.

Life is beautiful. It is what I make it.
The stress. The pounding. The shoving.
The guessing. The contradicting.
It’s only a matter of perception.
It’s all in the mind.

I, yes I, have the power to walk away from it.
And make my life
What I want it to be.

I will fall. And you will say,
“is everything okay?”
Of course it is okay. We all make mistakes.
Besides. I am the one that faultered.
It was my eyes that lost focus.

If I can stay focused, and I can,
See there? Everything is just fine.

Life is beautiful. It is my responsibility to keep it that way.
Even when it hurts.

My. Life. Is. Beautiful.
I’m sure of it.

Someone will say, “it is okay to be hurting, after all
Everyone hurts.”

Everyone hurts? Surely someone, somewhere, somehow,
Will have an answer,
then.
Surely someone, somewhere, somehow
Will understand,
then.
Surely someone, somewhere, somehow
Will help me,
then.

And I will fall
Searching for someone
Somewhere
Somehow
To help.

But no one knows what to do.

Surely, this pain will end.
Because life is beautiful.
right?
And I am strong.
right?
And I am not like the others.

Someone will respond, “it is okay to be hurting,
But keep it to yourself.”

Everyone hurts. Everyone struggles. Everyone fights.
Nobody shows it. Because
That
Is not okay.

Don’t. Show. It.

Life is beautiful. It is not fair for me to smudge the paint
Of somebody else’s painting
By complaining.

Nobody wants to know that I am hurting.
Carry on.

And I fall. And you say,
“Are you okay?”
And I say,
“Yes.”
And I cry alone.

It is true.
I am not like the others.
I will lose this fight
To blood.

And someone will say, “Ask for help!”
but. I. did.

Life is beautiful. And should not be
Cluttered about with
People like me.

People that cannot handle
The stress. The pounding. The shoving.
The guessing. The contradicting.
It’s only a matter of perception.
It’s all in the mind.

I, yes I, am weak.
And have made my life
What it is.

A. Mess.

The greater our quality of life,
The more it hurts.
May I request a little less quality, please?
And as it hurts, I cry.
Because it reminds me that I am alive.
And I am tormented to be alive.

And I,
I am not like the others.
I will always see the beauty
In spite of the pain.
And in the end. The pain wins.
Because it hurts.
And I am weak. And I am alone.

I fall. Alone.
And no one says
Anything.
I lose. The battle.
And someone says,
“She was so strong,
How could this happen?”
“We didn’t know.
Why didn’t she say something?”
“She was weak
And selfish.”

Don’t say anything.
Life is too beautiful.