The bitter Taste of Struggle

Why is it that a certain segment of society, and I am not pigeon holing a certain group, sex, race or religion, in fact this segment of society seems to emanate from all aspects of our community, and that said, why do these people insist on transposing their beliefs and ideas onto me? It seems there is always someone whom apparently knows better than I what is appropriate for…well me, what I ought to enjoy more and what I should do with my life. These people exist at my place of employment, at the coffee house I stop at and even within my own family.

The choices I make for myself are based on what I enjoy, what I like or appreciate and what I want out of my life. How can anyone else but me judge whether or not my choices are right for me. If those choices hurt no one, and directly engage no one but those involved in my choices voluntarily, how can those choices not be supported, celebrated or appreciated by the one I love?

But it happens, I make a choice based on my interests and my search for love, I am supported by the one I choose to be with, I am cared for by that person, I am free to express myself freely and openly without judgment, I fear not exposing my ugly sides and my scars and my skeletons for I am celebrated because of exactly who I am, and accepted without boundary for all that makes me, me. And even that said, judgment rears its vile, contemptuous head to go out of its way in order to lecture me, to share with me its disapproval and then go on to punish me when they struggle to understand the decisions and choices I have made, they don’t reach out and ask, inquire as to the motivations that drive my decisions, they don’t seek out insight, but rather seem to have an innate need to project their intolerances upon me. And for those not brave enough to do so, they hide; they disappear, fading away into the shade of the thorny bramble.

So I struggle, with great effort to comprehend the loss, I have gained so much, so much beauty and unrestrained love, freedom to be all of me and spend my days going on great adventures. And I want to share that with those who’ve always seemed to grapple with who I am, to show them how elated I have become but it falls on deaf ears and guarded hearts, why is it so difficult to accept the loss of things that make me sad, to turn away and face the sun and walk from the darkness that tries so hard to envelope me and hold me down under the weight of its condemnatory shadow?




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