And briefly this morning, I felt vilification. Briefly I felt desire to bump into you, and thus to look through you. Something finally broke, and I’d almost BEG one word spoken, just to humiliate you. For so long I’ve kept believing it is me, but it isn’t. It wasn’t. I really want to go to the show now, and I’d love to watch your falsified ego crumble with one word from my lips.

me? i was in the shower. the shehag called once, i ignored it being in the shower. called again a couple minutes later, so i assumed it was important. she had that hushed, quiet voice she used to do when she was scared or upset, so i knew something was wrong. i was out of the shower in time to see the second plane hit, and that’s when the words ran through my head…”something is terribly wrong here.”

And she put super glue in each of my palms and told me to make a circle with my arms, touching my palms together tightly. She the crawled into my circled arms, gently, and said, “now you can hold love in your arms forever.” She then smiled brightly at me, that smile that makes me shy, and kissed me.

“silence isn’t golden when you’re holding it inside”

I have too much to say. I struggle each day to contain it, and I fear it is eating my sanity. Problem is…I don’t even think the time or my words are deserving.

Such a delicate precipice upon which I’m teetering. My eyes grow darker each day as sleep slips further and further away.

And for my convictions, I was convicted. A liar, a cheater, and a fraud, I was called. None of the convictions were true, except my conviction to maintain love and friendship.

There was no right or wrong in the folly that followed, but merely falsehoods flung attacking my freedoms. The damages caused were true emotions, but they burned too brightly to bare.

From both our lips spewed indecencies that were not meant to be uttered. So much damage caused over such insignificant drivel.

Never again, never forgive, never believe…and never would my words matter.

From such harm, I’ve felt only that my words lost power…that my expressions lost strength to move those that understand them. It’s a hopeless feeling believing that your biggest strength became your absolute weakness.

I let my voice be silenced. I gave ultimate power to the one who turned her back.

I’ve struggled for an entire year to find my tongue again. Still daily, I struggle believing I’ll ever find it again.

It was an abomination to love and friendship to be treated the ways that I have for so many months. My only wish is that I’d simply kept my lips closed for every minute I held anger and pain.

I was and will be the most forgiving soul encountered, and no one will ever give the peace I offered, and especially the unconditional love. I felt sorry for myself, when I should have felt sorry for her.

I was not the one who lost everything.

Into madness I’d follow you.

And on those first days, 5am would be the time I’d say goodbye. And now, time merely taunts me.

This is not what I’ve expected.

All of these things are masked.

Most days I don’t feel any different. I should be numb by now, and I should be disconnected. Why am I not? Why is everything still fresh and raw?

The wound has been made, and perhaps it’s my own fault for picking at it and never letting it heal. Maybe those wounds never heal. I certainly still feel the pains of the past, and if given enough attention, they can feel as fresh as the day they were inflicted.

Is it just me? Does everyone else heal and forever forget? Or is everyone simply better at deluding themselves and others to the damage they carry?

The pain reminds us we are alive….but after so long, why do I need a reminder?

Recently someone put it into one single word, and it gave me realization. I am unsettled. I fear I’ve always been unsettled. My soul is restless, and rarely in my (adult) life do I remember moments of normality and contentment.

Call it a bout of self-deprecation, but perhaps they’ve all been right to walk away. It has to be difficult watching my flightiness and desperation daily, my incessant struggle for that unobtainable moment of serenity…

I fight because I don’t know any better. I argue because I don’t understand letting go. So many small times I could have stopped breathing and allowed myself to be inside a moment, and all those moments could have been peaceful. I never learned to just “be” when with another. To accept life as what it is, boring and magnificent, and to just admit that I was exactly where I wanted to be, forever.

The markings on my body that symbolize struggle between light and dark, balance, equality…they aren’t there to be pretty. They are there as a constant reminder of my perpetual battle that rages in my soul.

One day, one side just might win.