The Phoenix

They say there's nothing more beautiful than a phoenix rising from the ashes.

Is it beautiful in itself... or is it beautiful because it has risen in a circumstance of no hope?

Rising back once you are broken, gives birth to a different version of you. Is it a beautiful version? Rarely. For you rise with your scars and anger and love and determination.

I have risen...

I have stopped being circumspect. I'm now very direct.

I have stopped tolerating what I perceive as wrong. I now no longer give it leeway.

I have stopped holding unquestioning love for people. I now welcome them in, but refuse to allow them power over my life.

I no longer wait for opinions. I now listen to my inner voice. Period.

I no longer let my emotions run free. I now temper them down.

Now, is the phoenix that has risen beautiful? Yes, but not in the conventional sense.

In the journey ahead, dear reader, I'm bound to love people who see the phoenix... and I'm bound to hurt people who see the ashes.

For a change has happened, but how do I explain it to people who care for me?