How far can your soul expand? What if it was made of clay?

The debate in my mind is between two sides who both lose. How do I make my family proud, when even my big wins are shrunken in my mind? The ratio of applause to disappointment is far too uneven. How do I stitch together my life in a way where it isn't always ripping at the seams from being so overwhelmed.

How can I shape my motivation like pottery? Letting it be wet clay in my hands that I can mold when my world has tied the knot with misery and I wasn't even invited to the wedding?

The bite of inadequacy is one that never heals and surprisingly, never bleeds. Because of this, no one notices it, and they think you are fine. Just another civilian playing the game of life and paying taxes. But you are not fine at all. The rank you put yourself at is always 0, even if there are no players. Even if there are a multitude of players.

So you try and see your purpose like silk in your dreams. Something smooth and comforting. But instead, you get the remedy to happiness, or as you'd like to call it, your deepest insecurities. When we feel these, the spotlight turns beige. No notoriety matters. No headlines matter because we have made ourselves small.

And the funny thing about this is, we call it flexible, We shrink to occupy spaces we were never meant to fit in, just to get applause. But what if we expanded instead? What if we stretched so far, that we covered the whole globe? How can you not make your parents proud? You are large enough to absorb all the echoes. You are a symbol of space, and who doesn't love space?

What if we expanded so much that we reached up to space, kissed the stars, and became one of them. Became one with the atmosphere, glided over planets, and we were always a spectacle. And we were always a spectacle because we grew, we didn't shrink.

I think if we took the thought of publicity and flushed it down the toilet and only focused on purpose, the outside noise wouldn't even matter. The chatter would be ambiguous. People could be booing or they could be cheering and we would never know. Our families could be proud or they could be disappointed and we would never know.

It would be hard to put up such a fuss when we realize the world will use us as a pawn if we let it. But nothing will ever measure up to the standards because new ones are always being created. This society has built a maze that is meant for you to drown in. They call it "tropical justice". Well, if you drowned it's your fault. You should have known how to navigate the maze. The maze that changes daily and is crafted by hands with ill intent.

And what if we used the energy of our agony for unity? Building up our lifestyles that harm no one instead of asking others to conform to a mold? To not be clay in a potter's hands that are not our own. We are creation and we also create. We give away our power when we let others create a version of us that feels foreign.

And I think that's why some days the speed at which I'm moving seems to slow down. I can't connect with my hands, with my feet, with my tired knees. Because the way this body is moving is not in my own direction. I am moving blindly because those who have the clay have not created a new path for me yet. So I must sit still while they update my biography.

But when I am truly aligned with my purpose and I have complete control over that clay, each movement vibrates my whole body. There are no dull colors. Only colors so bright they make my eyes brim with tears. My body bounces up in the morning as I become one with the springs. As I become Spring. Fresh and fertile. Blooming, even if no one sees me. Blossoming, even if no one cares.