And like a Phoenix, we rise from our ashes

Sometimes when we try to fit in and we lose ourselves a bit. We try to hold on to every ounce of what is left of us in our hands and slowly we rise. We wear things that represent us and we are honest for the first time.

And like a Phoenix, we rise from our ashes

And we move to bigger cities with smaller houses, to places where summers are too harsh and monsoons are too long, from homes that have huge gardens and verandas and balconies to apartments with a huge window and we look at the blue sky as it undresses and reveals a soul of gold. We ask ourselves quite frequently about our homes. 

We look at the birds and we wish of flying, but even birds are chained to the sky. We eat expensive food and post it on our social media and we tell ourselves how this is our best life. We live near our offices, we keep making plans to explore on Sundays but on Sundays, we sleep and sleep and sleep until our favorite color of sunset hits the window and turns our white bedrooms pink, and we look at the sky again and tell ourselves that it was a good day and we mean it. 

We go to birthdays and to restaurants with new friends because we want them to like us. We wear aesthetic makeup and go on dates, we drink too much and talk too loud, we smile even if we are uncomfortable, we say things that we aren't supposed to because we are nervous, we try to look cool but at the end of the day, we just want to sit in our pajamas and smoke and talk about childhood and art and feelings. We tell ourselves that it's okay because when you grow you have to suffer a little too. Your life isn't a movie or lyrics of a Taylor Swift song. It doesn't guarantee you that everything will be okay at the end. And we live with our half-empty hearts, and our numb souls, and our dried-up passion until we realize that sometimes when we try to fit in, we lose ourselves a bit. And slowly, our art and our hopes are shattered and we try to hold on to every ounce of what is left of us in our hands. 

And slowly, we rise. We wear things that represent us and we are honest for the first time and we do not have 35 friends who we wish birthdays on social media, but we have three people who we can actually talk to. And we transform our small apartments into our art studios and we kiss strangers because we are happy. And we understand that our best version of ourselves is far away, so we try and try until we reach it. And like a Phoenix, we rise from our ashes. Our smiles now speak of our confidence and our eyes now tell stories of disasters and triumph.

And we realize that heroes are never born, only reborn. And finally, we revive too— as our own heroes.

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