But are we really?

I like to think that we have some control over certain things, certain eclipses of the moon but sometimes believe I am powerless. Sometimes I have a feeling like I need superpowers to pass through the day, get shit done and survive. And sometimes, I cry myself to sleep…

I won’t lie and say that there weren’t times when I was wishing that I had some kind of superhuman ability. All that wishing got me nowhere in the end, who would have thought?

When I’m down and out, hurt by so many injustices, by people’s actions and words, I don’t know how to get back up again. I wait until it goes away, as it always does when I least expect it. That is the only thing I have learned to trust over the years.

Do I wish to change things, to influence someone, to be able to do things that affect the outcome of my life?

I feel powerless when I don’t write when I don’t have anything to say, anything to add to a conversation, to an action, a thought, when it gets passed me without stinking to me that I am, indeed, letting my life fall to shambles.

Is it always night? Is it dark? I know better by now, at least I like to think I do. Sometimes power falls into your hands. It’s what you do with that that matters.

Do we sink, or do we stay afloat? Do you fly or walk the ground like most people?

It’s almost all up to you. You already have the power in you, you might not see it from the cloud of darkness that follows your every move. When I fall, get disappointed in life in general or just don’t feel worthy, I always fly afterward. I have not sunken once (because my ego keeps me afloat, but another issue for another time). The power within me takes over, driving me to safety, taking me away from the shore after my ship sank.

Your voice matters. Your actions matter. You matter.

Nothing will ever black you out if you don’t let it. The only one who can make you feel powerless is you.

Chapter three

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