Strong and independent. At least she thinks she is.
Adventure calls. Wandering into the unknown, her innocent curiosity gets lost in her criticism.
Fear, The Not Enough, wins. There is only one way, right in the middle. Extremes=dangerous, inside the margins=known.
Alone, she befriends the neutral inside. Accepted and expected is what comes out. Intimacy with just right grows. She knows what others want to see. She shows them what they want to know. But she senses something else within her.
The voice inside, it rumbles low. It fuels default, demands order. It tells her she has it all together. It brings her comfort. Praise. The voice carries her while her something else simmers deeply, never boiling but never freezing.
This porridge that simmers, could it be her true self? Her peace? A porridge made of dreams, passion, desire: the triplets that make her her. They wait for her rising. They long to meet her strength and independence, her confidence. They hope that someday her curiosity will trump her criticism. They wonder when her sense of adventure will take her past the edges. They fight to free her. Fill her.
Because being filled with the porridge is the only way to make room for the joy, the completeness, and the saving of souls: triplets that can never be found in just right.
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