The Forgiveness Mourning

Day in and day out, my body sustains unprecedented torture, destruction and hate. Whether it is me, my eating disorder, or the society I live in, my body gets shit.

What is it that persecutes my body?

Who me? But I am no egotistical maniac. No menacing creature that thrives on pain. So I thought.

I mourn for all the times I have neglected my bodies capabilities. It’s virtue. It’s talents.

My legs carry me to beautiful places.

My heart pumps energizing lifeblood through my veins.

My eyes, the jewels to my soul, take pictures of my surroundings.

My nimble hands flutter throughout the day, working, touching, and supporting.

My feet ground me to the earth, balancing me, rooting me.

My tummy stretches and shrinks, allowing me to fill it with flavorful energy.

My brain powers me to philosophize and grow in intellect.

My immune system rapidly expels a sickness that enters the premise of my body.

My breath paces and sustains my movement.

My teeth, my nose, my hair, my toes. They give me the ability to live into the tomorrow.

My body allows me to be an active participant of my life and for that, I should be honored to inhabit it.

It is a best friend. A friend I literally cannot live without.

I ask its forgiveness.



Run For Water Half Marathon, 2017: When my body did the most challenging act of physical activity with little to no love or support from myself.

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