[Written also, last September...] "For as long as I can remember I believed, but somehow, in the midst of all my moments I have stopped. One might think, quite logically that losing a very large piece of oneself would cause a notion of loneliness rather than a desire to abolish a feeling left behind, in the place of the departed, a remainder, some distant memory to be recalled without warning. It is as though my heart remains, but my soul is gone taking with it the parts of myself I most desire. I am new in ways. I am brighter, more cautious. That is what these moments do to us, they make us more aware. I am aware, more ever so now that I can stand in the cold and actually feel the cold. I remember, a moment, a distant smudge in my past life, where the cold felt me instead. Snow could blanket me then, hide me away, but not even its icy lips could make me feel the cold in those moments. That may very well have been my death, those winters in Ohio, for now I am someone else entirely, someone brave, someone who sparkles in the spotlight. The cold may pass me in the street now and not recognize this body, this soulless life, but I can now feel the cold. Tonight I cannot sleep, and I will pretend to know all of the answers. It is more likely just the espresso I had before bed, but the visions keep my eyes begging for the first sign of sun. It is now, dawn, just before daylight in which we judge ourselves with the harshest of intent. It may come from the needs of the day to come, the endless list of things to accomplish, things to make me feel as though I have earned the right to stop moving. I have spent over ten years of my life "earning" my way through one accomplishment to another, putting aside the only thing I had ever truly wanted, for what? I tried earning the one thing you cannot obtain by accomplishment, and now I may spend the rest of my life hating myself for it. If I stay put, for ten minutes, with no goal in mind- no achievement to be scored- no intentions for control- I just might die. This mind wanders everywhere, but it seldom takes me along. I know so much, too soon, so many keys to success without a single satisfying door to unlock. I, as my mother told me I would, have built my own prison. I have locked myself in it, and I have swallowed the key. I guess this is the part where I reach into my heart, inside myself, and I dig out that key. I need to dig out that person I want to be. I need to dig out that memory, that regret that haunts me. I need to release it all. I need to be free."
Posted on: Sat, 27 Jul 2013 07:24:58 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015