Sometimes I don’t get the point of a gift. Should I make, people show me they care for me by presenting me with something. Gift s can be intangible, as well, but those seem worse You can’t return those.
Gifts and curses tend to exist side by side. I have the gift of writing, but it is a curse. I write because I reflect. I reflect because I overthink. I overthink because I am scared. I am scared… so every word becomes a painful moment of realization, which becomes my gift.
Abracadabra is an Aramaic word that means, “It will be created in my words to speak into existence.”
My inner soul is louder, so is my inner voice more powerful? If that is the truth, I am genuinely in trouble. My gift to myself is not as kind as my love for others.
Maybe the best gifts are the ones you give yourself – are the one that begins with loving that scared part of yourself.
AN: The piece is above was a stream of consciousness/reflection that I wrote from the image of the gift above.
Apologies for the repost but typos in the original posting.
