I’m fighting myself and all the selves within.
It’s daunting some days. I want to unzip my skin and walk out of me. Leaving her behind in a heap but that’s what I know so well.
Being left behind. Unseen. Unknown. Misused.
I’m tired of being alone and trying to work through scores of thoughts. It’s like being ambushed by snipers. The artillery are words and voices. I pour through the pores of my skin looking for a different spin or eyes to see but right now, I’m fighting to breathe.
It comes in waves, often unexpectedly. What triggers it? I rarely know. It could be as simple as the air is tinged with a coolness dipping into the tail of cold.
It tastes of fear lost in a dark, dark well.
I wrap myself neatly into my mug and stare through the Grecian world of my mind’s eye. Why Greek? I don’t know but I see an aqua blue sea and white washed buildings. Red and lush geraniums line a walkway and window boxes overflow.
Maybe I need to get away and however so briefly, I do in a daydream.
Then the demands return and menacing doubts resurface. I pull a blanket of words closer. I’d like to suffocate her but she keeps on breathing.
I have tools and know a few tricks but it’s still hard to switch from the vein of blame and shame. It’s easy for some to put it out there, ‘don’t do that.’ or ‘just believe.’ There’s a false wealth of quick fixes too and positive quips to think differently.
I don’t know how to when I sink into this restless space. My walls are not clear glass but thick dark bricks.
I rest my soul on the edges and hope and wait for this to pass as a tsunami washes through.