A Day of Rest Is Not So Bad
If you truly love yourself, do not repress yourself. If you arrest your own heart’s beating with chains and locks, ropes and straightjackets, how will you know its intents? On a somber day in January, when gray sleet cascades on your windows, when a sadness settles over you, do not try to fight it. Do not feel an ounce of shame, or a splinter of doubt for your emotions. On that solemn day, you want to lay in bed, cold and unmotivated, fatigued but restless. You feel a pang of guilt for what you deem as laziness, for wanting to stay bundled in the sheets of your bed. Do not. Do not feel guilty. Do not be upset with yourself. Do not ignore your soul wailing in your chest, to please, let it rest. You beat yourself with weeks upon weeks of strain, and punish and ridicule yourself for a day of emotional slumber. But why would you ever treat yourself with such negligence? Had your dear friend rapped at your door and implored that you speak with them, would you turn them away? When they admit to their melancholy or rage, do you tell them that their emotions are uncalled for, or perhaps trivial? Absolutely not, so why must you shun the person who knows every inch of your body and every secret you stash, every one of your mistakes, and all of your aspirations? You are only a sapling now, a tree waiting to grow in any direction you choose, and you will not grow without nourishment.