The Many Colored Horse.

When I moved.
Quit my job.
Seeing this as completely reasonable in my jaunt to better myself as a step forward.

The non-negotiable action of unpacking;
leaving what is unwanted behind on my path
unpacking- which is mandatory considering that's exactly what -it- is.

A move.

Unpacking is one thing.
Breaking down boxes is another.

There is a storage room in this new apartment, where I put the extra boxes and not much that I held close to memoir.

Unpacking, sorting through, disposing of anything unworthy or unnecessary in my life for what it has come to be.
Then; of course;
Breaking down the boxes.

Breaking down the boxes was not nearly my preparation for maybe having to move one more time.

Supplying the comfort to my irrational fear based on things that have happened.
But that's just it.
They HAVE happened.

Past tense.
I'm trying so hard to let all of what's behind me stay there.
I tore up the boxes.
Breaking them down, I broke down.
Tears might have gone down my cheeks a little with the known sense that I was going to be at risk emotionally if I thought about it.

So I didn't. I didn't let the fear seep into the well of my imagination.
Boxes be no more.

I am left to bewilder day by day.
The definition of home.

I've been job hunting online.
Hunting. Seeking.
Not applying.

Being seriously hesitant for the first time in my life.
Wading as a waitress is the lingering position at state in this rediculous chess game.
I've not decided what it is I want to do.
Not a clue.

I feel like a little kid in a sand box with tonka trucks, jenga pieces, puzzles, linkin-logs and legos around me. I yearn to build life.

The salamanders outside the sand-box on the ground taunt me.
Living life, it's time for me to join them.

There are so many opportunities around me.
I see them, and this time I know that I have luck and positivity on my side.

The irony of having openness of opportunity around me,
is that I've come so far;
I'm afraid that if there's a mistep at the biggest choice I make and failing happens.
This time, It's an open portal into the abyss of life.

The most stubborn person I have ever met, is in my mirror.
Even I know when to back down against life, other people, and situations.

But not myself.
I'm at war here, and there's a catapult of "I told you so's"
hurdling their way from the pessimistic neurons in my brain if my optimism and work is broken down by life's ammo; named shit.

I'm so scared.
I've always been alone in this.
But the wall of nonsense stone was my little protection.

It wasn't just protection for me.....
I theoretically feel bad for anyone who pisses me off.
They might need a box of tissues and mental neosporin for Wonder Woman's lasso of Truth.

The page of self defense has been turned.
Truly, I'm not holding back with the fuck off's anymore.

Now along with starting applications for jobs I really want, writing more...and enjoying freedom.
I plan on learning how to balance out my mean by being sweet,
when I really honest to god, want to be.

For me. That's a toughie.