Next Day

Today I feel able to start writing again. A flood of thoughts fill my mind with how I can take time away from torturing myself more. Must be the deep need I have to put aside my responsibilities without a bit of regret.
I imagine I'm on a cloud of soft grass, floating in a river of sweet blue water, surrounded by a melody of birds and waves gently wafting at my feet. I am drifting along without any weights and free from demands and restraints. I have a scent of fresh leaves and spring showers lingering about my face and a slight breeze ruffles my clean long hair. I have a smile of satisfaction upon my face. I am wearing soft cotton and I can feel no pain or tuck against my skin. I have my muscles relaxed and I am warm. It is not lonely but I am alone, finally.
My dreams of yesteryear so far back that I can only try to rekindle the excitment of being myself. So covered up with the soot of following others ideas for me. Now I am clean and dewy. I know I am alive but not sure why. I look in corners for an answer I will agree on tomorrow but I tend to see differently the next day.
I pat myself on the back for some of my choices and even applaud others but I refuse to see how I hurt myself as I am afraid I will do it again. No, I have decided not to look at the mistakes but try to forgive my feeble attempts. I usually look to the next day to find my treasures. Now I will carry today forward. I will release the better part of tomorrow today. I will be there. I will write and I will float and I will be happy. Today I feel able to accept my responsibilities as mine and rise above the torture to find the way to make it all work. I am counting on the next day.