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Self-Salvation
Just chewed on my lip until it bled and my mom said it's okay it will heal in a few days. Painfully reminded me the body does just heal itself over and over again. There's somebody who's been trying to save me all along and it's me.
I've spent countless nights wandering the dark corridors of my mind, searching for the elusive answers to life's unasked questions. I've stumbled upon the recesses of my soul, yearning to unearth the hidden treasures buried within. In this eternal quest for salvation, I have come to realize that it is not an external force or divine intervention that holds the power to save me; rather, it is the inherent resilience of my own being that forces me to rise above the chaos, time and time again.
Life, you see, is a constant cycle of pain and healing. Like my bleeding lip that will mend, our bodies restore themselves, knitting together fractured remnants of our existence. The scars fade, leaving behind the imprints of a resilient spirit, whispering tales of bravery and survival. Through the prism of this realization, I understand that healing is not merely a physical phenomenon—it is a spiritual journey, a testament to the indomitable human spirit.
There have been moments when all hope seemed lost, when darkness cast its formidable shadow upon my fragile heart. But in those moments, amidst the deafening silence, a flicker of inner strength ignited, mounting a rebellion against the oppressor named Despair. It is this clandestine force, driven by an insatiable thirst for survival, that pushes me towards my own redemption.
I have discovered that salvation is an art—one that requires patience, resilience, and a profound understanding of oneself. It is a journey that traverses the landscapes of fear, doubt, and vulnerability, weaving a tapestry of falling and rising. It is in the moments of despair that we truly come to know ourselves, peeling back layers upon layers of our own existence, gazing into the depths of our souls.
Like a sculptor molding clay, I chisel away at the walls I have built around my heart, allowing the light of self-acceptance to seep in. In this process of self-salvation, I paint over the dark corners of my mind, transforming them into vast expanses of possibility and hope. It is an act of pure defiance, a rebellion against the predefined scripts of fate, as I become both the savior and the saved.
In my solitude, I find solace, for there resides an extraordinary resilience deep within my core. It is a fire that defies all logic, a spark that refuses to be extinguished. This fire, when kindled, spreads with fervor, illuminating the darkest corners of my existence. It whispers words of encouragement and unbreakable resolve, reminding me that I hold the key to my own salvation.
So, as I sit here, my lip tender and throbbing, I am reminded that the pain will subside with time, just as the body wraps itself in a cloak of healing. And as the scabs fall away, I am left with a renewed sense of self, a testament to my journey of self-salvation. The scars will fade, but the indomitable fire within will continue its relentless pursuit of healing.
In the depths of my being, the realization strikes me like a bolt of lightning—I am my own savior, my own hero. And with this newfound knowledge, I weave a tale of resilience, bravery, and unyielding strength, for I am the artist and the masterpiece, the subject and the storyteller, all in one.
© Jevanjee
I've spent countless nights wandering the dark corridors of my mind, searching for the elusive answers to life's unasked questions. I've stumbled upon the recesses of my soul, yearning to unearth the hidden treasures buried within. In this eternal quest for salvation, I have come to realize that it is not an external force or divine intervention that holds the power to save me; rather, it is the inherent resilience of my own being that forces me to rise above the chaos, time and time again.
Life, you see, is a constant cycle of pain and healing. Like my bleeding lip that will mend, our bodies restore themselves, knitting together fractured remnants of our existence. The scars fade, leaving behind the imprints of a resilient spirit, whispering tales of bravery and survival. Through the prism of this realization, I understand that healing is not merely a physical phenomenon—it is a spiritual journey, a testament to the indomitable human spirit.
There have been moments when all hope seemed lost, when darkness cast its formidable shadow upon my fragile heart. But in those moments, amidst the deafening silence, a flicker of inner strength ignited, mounting a rebellion against the oppressor named Despair. It is this clandestine force, driven by an insatiable thirst for survival, that pushes me towards my own redemption.
I have discovered that salvation is an art—one that requires patience, resilience, and a profound understanding of oneself. It is a journey that traverses the landscapes of fear, doubt, and vulnerability, weaving a tapestry of falling and rising. It is in the moments of despair that we truly come to know ourselves, peeling back layers upon layers of our own existence, gazing into the depths of our souls.
Like a sculptor molding clay, I chisel away at the walls I have built around my heart, allowing the light of self-acceptance to seep in. In this process of self-salvation, I paint over the dark corners of my mind, transforming them into vast expanses of possibility and hope. It is an act of pure defiance, a rebellion against the predefined scripts of fate, as I become both the savior and the saved.
In my solitude, I find solace, for there resides an extraordinary resilience deep within my core. It is a fire that defies all logic, a spark that refuses to be extinguished. This fire, when kindled, spreads with fervor, illuminating the darkest corners of my existence. It whispers words of encouragement and unbreakable resolve, reminding me that I hold the key to my own salvation.
So, as I sit here, my lip tender and throbbing, I am reminded that the pain will subside with time, just as the body wraps itself in a cloak of healing. And as the scabs fall away, I am left with a renewed sense of self, a testament to my journey of self-salvation. The scars will fade, but the indomitable fire within will continue its relentless pursuit of healing.
In the depths of my being, the realization strikes me like a bolt of lightning—I am my own savior, my own hero. And with this newfound knowledge, I weave a tale of resilience, bravery, and unyielding strength, for I am the artist and the masterpiece, the subject and the storyteller, all in one.
© Jevanjee
