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Quarantine Thoughts: A Journal Series part 3

A collection of poems and prose by Emma Butterfield

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I miss being hungry

for life. That free, exhilarating feeling where it seems as though each breath you take in is illuminating your wings and propelling you into the clear air that lies before your eyes, your voracious soul just begging for more.

What would it be like to have a lust for life again? To crave every inch of its nectar, to yearn for the taste of its sweetness dancing on my tastebuds. I’ve lost that feeling. I still get a brief taste of it in my mouth at times but soon thereafter I find all the rancid tastes from my trauma lingering in the back of my throat. The bitterness overpowers its soothing essence. It’s quite foul when that happens, in all honesty.

But I keep catching little glimpses, sweet morsels, of hope that one day the sweet tastes of life will overpower the bitter ones. I’ve just got to keep reaching for the nectar in my life and holding on to the hope that its strength will overpower the grasp of those remnants of my bitter past.

I find ways to sprinkle in the sweetness every day, and I keep clinging tight to the idea that this will be enough to squash the relentless demons of my past. I take a pinch of humor with loved ones, I sprinkle in some time spent outdoors, and mix it all together with a dash of yoga and exhilarating music. I’m still trying to find the right recipe, but what matters is that I’m taking the steps in the right direction. This path may be long- but I’ve walked longer ones. The universe wouldn’t of dealt me these cards if it didn’t think I could handle them.

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