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I wrote this lastnight and am finally deciding to share it here. It is hard to find words right now so I will let this speak for itself. Thank you for listening.
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Tonight I sit here feeling as though I am somewhere detached from myself. A familiar feeling that used to come so many times that we are never afraid of where it takes us. The feelings so afraid to reach out, afraid to write, and most of all afraid to post----at all.. What comes out comes from within somewhere, and is much deeper that even myself is aware of.
I feel myself pulling away to where no one can reach me, to where no one even knows I exist, a place that used to keep us safe and that little girl safe so that life could continue. The hurt I feel has no words and feels so bad that to touch it would destroy my being. No one can get in and we do not have to get out.
Those within huddling so close as we feel abused all over again something that is so familiar we could never, not know what it is. Does it matter what may or may not lie within? Does it matter if we shut down? Maybe words are not needed----not heard. Or maybe they should not be at all.
It is not just a story it was a life that did what had to be done to survive. A little girl who split, who was never one or herself, love never knew her and words never mattered. An adult trying to somehow become, to somehow put back the pieces for the first time, and to even know of the pieces existing within.
Words held so deep that black cannot describe their color nor their pain. A quiet, almost death like silence, has come over afraid to touch these words, to even allow them to seep through the small cracks and crevices within the blackness. To allow them to even seep upwards, fear swallows hard to push them back down. They may not only feel attacked from the inside but from without also. Danger feels present all around once again.
Words what are they? Do they make sense? Do they come together at all to give hint of when one is or where one has been? A life struggling to continue after struggling to exist, of one trying to allow others within, and trying to shed even a dim light to existence. Never planned just a jumble of letters that somehow comes together to form a sentence that a shattered lifetime tried to destroy.
Not expecting acceptance but hoping to tear down the dam that holds up that wall within. To slowly allow truths to be revealed, fighting a battle to even exist as stops and plugs are constantly trying to plug up those leaks that are allowing words to seep through. A place that time is stuck within littles and yet it has not stopped to wait for them to grow or to even know that they have continued to be.
From somewhere above some part of myself reaches yet silently so to not be seen, not be heard, and not to continue to be drawn into the battle for life itself. Silently the keys tap and the hum of the fan echoes and fear stops any thought
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