Dear Imposter Syndrome
an epistolary
Dear Imposter Syndrome,
I owe you an apology.
After all these years, I am ready for your eulogy.
But forgive me.
In death, not everyone is deserving of praise.
I suppose you were generous - with your malaise.
Our friendship, while fraught,
Was not all for naught.
You taught me the power of my own mind,
and the value of taking time to unbind my shackles.
Without fear or doubt, I am free
and reveal this façade.
All this time -who knew?!
That you were in fact, the fraud.
About the Creator
E.K. Daniels
Writer, watercolorist, and regular at the restaurant at the end of the universe. Twitter @inkladen
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Happiness Is Easy
Oh, Death, my companion so familiar, I start pondering a question that weighs heavily upon the fabric of existence. How is man, in his raucous concert, to rise above darkness of depression and the obsession with small things, so that he can then dance his circle of life? I am not sure, Death. For as much as I am the keeper of their moments, I am afraid that mankind as a whole is not ready for it. Their years are full of dissonances; their songs — with a background of the clangor of the shrill cries of trepidation and shyness. Nevertheless, amidst the chaos of insecurities and fears, there are scenes of spirituality, and mankind learns to see the divine streak in it. It is in those cracks and within those seconds of heavy breathing, that hope is truly found—It is a song of restoration and new beginnings. But how do they maintain this state of affairs, Death? Given that the lovers bear their hearts burdened by the weight of their own mortality? How can they be comforted if they are in a state of confusion when shadows of despair are hung over the horizon? Perhaps, Death, it is not my place to seek answers to these questions, but rather for humanity to discover their own harmonious response. Maybe that is what they need to do, simply to listen to the music only their souls can hear; only know that they exist — temporarily but beautifully. All the rest, is silent. But, Death, while I try to forget, I ponder whether humans possess the resilience to confront reality and transform grief and happiness into a weft and warp, in essence, into integral parts of life. Ultimately, the duration of these experiences in the grand ballad of existence holds no significance; it is the depth and resonance that truly matter.
By The Cafecito3 days ago in Poets
Comments (5)
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A deeper look at diagnostics
A very well written piece and an introduction to a condition I had not heard of before - thank you!
Fabulous!!! Loved it!!!