My Life is up for Interpretation

From the outside, it might look like abstract art.
Strange brushstrokes, unexpected color, patterns that don’t quite make sense at first glance.

Some will stand back and admire it.
Others will try to critique it.
A few may even walk by without a second thought.

But unless you are me, holding the brush, feeling the pulse of each moment as I move with it
you’ll never fully know what each stroke cost.
What I had to let go of to choose that color.
What storm I transmuted just to pick up the paint again.

My life is a living canvas
sacred, shifting, unapologetically mine.
Not meant to be understood by everyone.
Only lived, fiercely and faithfully, from the inside out.

Interpret it however you like.
But I know what I’m painting.
And I trust the hands holding the brush.