The bitter side of Gold

I've never pretended to be anyone or anything that I wasn't.

No matter what I looked like on the outside,

I've always felt I was meant for something greater.

I’ve spent more years being thrown back and forth

by life’s highs and lows

than I have shouting from mountaintops—

often drowning on the inside,

but never letting the waves break me

or crying myself a river

over the cards I was dealt.

I used to look like what I’d been through,

but it never hardened my heart—

not even on nights when I slept in the cold.

I remained a lighthouse for others,

even when life’s storms blurred my own path.

I still glowed.

Broke bread with those who had more

and those who had less—

less responsibility, less commitments, less concerns—

never kept score or spoke on it,

just gave from the heart,

expecting nothing in return.

People loved me then, wanted me around—

even though I was bummy,

no clothes or money to do anything—

not even my hair—

I was everyone's favorite,

their twin, their go-to person.

But in a world where the outside

must match the inside,

I was overlooked,

never deemed a threat.

struggling, loss after loss,

people loved me, called me, came around.

Working hard never seemed hard enough,

so I stopped chasing gold

and locked into survival mode.

Exhausted from endless losses,

I just wanted to get out of the mud—l l _

and on the edge of defeat,i

I struck gold.

I was up now,

up like I’d never have in the past—

so happy I could finally kick my feet up,

even if just for a little while.

“Ash, you then glowed up,” I would hear them say,

but when I looked in the mirror,

I saw the same reflection,

felt the same inside too—

just a little more polished.

Polish that made others see my glare,

my luster, my sparkle—

a shine that seemed to turn smiling faces

into Janus masks—

masks that revealed themselves

in moments of unprovoked cathartic eruptions.

I'm up now—and it's not what I imagined

more money, less stress, and more relaxed—

but now I have less—

less friends, less family, less support.

No longer the favorite,

the go-to person,

or the one who gets invited out.

I'm up now, but not up where I'm set—

how’d love turn to hate and resentment?

When did bossing up become a threat?

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