I own nothing. Literally nothing.
I don't own my clothes,
nor my bags and all the money in my account,
nor the perfumes that are exotic in the drawer,
nor the blanket that coats me with beautiful dreams and the solid hours of sleep,
nor the stable signal from the wifi,
nor the electricity that keeps my rooms cold and comfy
nor the phone calls from Mom - Dad - fiancé - sister - brother - friends - colleagues - boss
nor the journey I've been walked so far
So why bother to be afraid of losing things
when everything doesn't belong to me.
I own nothing, literally nothing.
Not even death which tastes bitter.
Not even lost which fears me.
So why it feels so heavy when things don't please me
Do I even own my own feelings?
I think but all of those things spiraling in my mind, I don't own it.
What can I do was to be present,
to acknowledge that I belong to something greater
to my knowledge (that actually doesn't belong to me).
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