rage and entitlement.

rage.

sometimes at night i sit alone and think about my life.
i wonder why i was dealt the cards i was dealt.
i wonder why at twenty-seven, i feel as weathered as the oldest woman to have ever walked this earth.

although i have been through (what i would define) as hell and back, i just keep walking.
i refuse to succumb to the tired.
i refuse to be ordinary.
god help me if i ever become ordinary.

for the past six years, i have allowed myself to be a victim.
reading pages from my journals, i am reminded of the torment i subjected myself to:

• why do we love, it only leads to hurt...
• she cries, i stay strong. she is supposed to be strong, i'm supposed to cry...
• i am reaching out to you, oh please dont let me fall...
• wandering heart, where have you taken her...
• watching as you unfold the complicated girl that few people know and even less who try to understand...
• i'd like to get away from earth for awhile and then come back to it and begin over... rf
• i would have given you my all ~ patience and understanding was all i wanted...
• i am scared. i am alone.
• they say death is a stage of life. i say it is a stage of fear.
• i don't want to sleep because i don't want this feeling to go away...
• i love getting lost in my thoughts...
• tomorrow i am going to try and just - live.
• i am not ready to let go...

of course, not everything in the past six years has been dramatic.
in fact, i have done many amazing things.
but tonight, rage sits on the surface.
rage over shadows the other stuff.
rage is raw.

entitlement.

once you define rage, it is easy to identify entitlement.

simply. it's my turn.
it's my time to soar.
i have earned this.
it's time to live my life.
to hell with anyone who stands in my way.

i may be impulsive.
i may be unreasonable.
i may be erratic.
but hell, i've earned it.

it is finally my turn to suppress rage and embrace entitlement.