I Pray to Myself 5 Minutes a Day
I Like to Think I Believe in Myself
Mm, sometimes, I tell myself good things I struggle to believe or forget to keep in mind. Other times, I simply focus on my breathing and cycle through poses that center me. I've been doing it 5 minutes at a time; maybe that's all I'm good for. I burn a tea light to remind myself that serenity is not mindlessness so please, Ricky, please don't fall asleep, ha. I like to keep the old matches up to a certain point to show myself how well I've been doing: sticking to the schedule of giving praise to myself; to the temple my soul, my consciousness, inhabits.
I'm in a coffee shop with a love: she works on her schoolwork while I dote on my daydreams. I'm 5 minutes from my job and I'm trying not to think about all I could be doing. I'm 5 inches from her hand and the comfort it restores, though I don't have a voice: not here, not now. I'm 5 minutes away from serenity, but this is not my private space and I'm not sure if my faith or its practices are welcome here.
My gOd is nearly everything, but that includes anxiety, and I find myself in limbo more than I ever will in heaven. Stranded, yet not abandoned, I pray to myself, for my body is a moving temple on its own special pilgrimage.
My job is only 5 minutes from this coffee shop and I'm trying not to think about it because I couldn't use the 5 minutes it takes to get there to pray.
About the Creator
Ricky R.R.
Depressive realist and author of A Spoonful of Sadness, Ricky devotes most of his brain-space to his polyamorous relationships, personal fitness, and ability to find connections in the dark. Happiness to him is compersion and patience.
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