What does it mean to be whole?
Does it mean you’re complete? You’re as you should be?
If I am not whole, am I broken? But where did the rest of me go…
Is it lost along with societal’s expectations of what it means to full?
Is to be whole, to be accepted?
No one wants an incomplete set of china, a deck without all its cards.
Am I missing some part of me, my essence if I am not whole?
Am I imperfect, less than expected…fragmented?
Perhaps to be whole means to be undivided.
To have all of yourself in harmony, accepting what you are.
Or is it to be complacent, unyielding?
Forever the same, forever complete.
An expectation can become a downfall.
To be whole is merely one option. One outcome.
And I like to mix it up.
Whole
