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Ball and chain

The chain, locked tight to the thoughts that control my mind.


The ball, sat firmly in my stomach — weighing every part of me down.


Its gravitational pull forcing my heart to sink into the ground — unable to give or receive any form of love.


It took centuries before this restraining device was abolished from the colonial era. And yet, this is a battle that I have to deal with, in the first hours of every morning — centuries condensed into minutes.


The mornings are when the chain is locked the tightest. "You're not good enough. You're ugly. You're not smart enough. You're not funny enough. You're not alternative enough. You don't fit in here. You're just not enough", it convinces me.


...and then I get on with my day, waiting eagerly for those thoughts to take me hostage again, just before bed.


Then for the entire ritual to start over again. Every morning. Until I am strong enough to break the chain, and stop allowing my thoughts to control my mind.


But for now, it is here. So I carry on, ball and chain an'all.

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