I’ve committed to a religious self-examination of my own ego,
and while trying to appreciate the world around me,
in my observations of the self,
I’ve had a demi-epiphany, semi-insight, and an all-around, general realization, which may come as no surprise to you.
Beauty is not real.
It’s just something I perceive.
I am capable
of seeing the beauty in things.
And perhaps I even put it there,
in ways that I don’t even realize I need.
The absence of such pick-me-ups might otherwise wear me down
and make me weak until I’m too stressed out
to keep myself from crying at the office–
What I mean is
perception is reality.
Though I am not in command of life,
and obstacles emerge,
I have the opportunity to respond,
and control completely
how I treat myself.