Somewhere within the confines of my soul I've been waiting to get out.
Waiting to surrender the pretense that I am somehow "perfect",
and surrender to true perfection.
At some time long before the word perfect meant whole,
not some worldly view now that to be perfect you have to be without blemish.
Whole, derived from the meaning of Holy.
And in essence, perfection as a whole being, complete.
I guess lately I tried searching for something that would make me whole.
That would take the emptiness, and complete it.
But light attracts light,
and you cannot fill an emptiness with more darkness,
when trying to rescue a soul.
Either that of your own or of another,
so I tried to be whole today.
I removed the things that caused me emptiness, or things which substituted for something real.
I felt a little more whole again, a little less broken.
I smiled, I laughed, I remembered what it felt like to be good again.
Do you know I haven't cooked a meal in two weeks?
Do you know I haven't gone to bed before midnight in nearly a month?
Do you know that this is the first time I haven't gotten on Facebook all day?
Do you know that I suddenly feel not tied down and....free again?
--But this is just another autobiography, examining the prosopography of me.
By: Emma Marie.