I no longer wish to be strong.
I yearn for softness like the release of rain during the drought or the first glimpse of the sun after a storm.
Strength is not a badge of honour, it is a boulder of infinite weight.
It is the most exhausting and lonely thing you will ever know.
I dream of a life of easy Sunday mornings and the calmness that comes from knowing everything will be okay.
I resent strength.
What once was a regard of respect now weighs heavier on me than the buckets of tears I could shed.
I crave the gentle waves lapping the shoreline and dancing with a lover in the kitchen.
Strong to me has meant simply no other choice.
It is dry eyes that could fill the largest lakes.
It is blank stares as a veil for unshared thoughts.
It is hiding the chaos of my mind behind a soft smile.
Strength isn’t romantic or desired, and it shouldn’t be a way of life.
There is nothing wrong with the sweet taste of fruit in the summer and a light breeze on a warm day.
There is nothing weak about longing for the lighter things in life.
For chasing them.
For freeing your soul of the unwavering oppression of strength.
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