Accidents

I never meant to start this but I’m not sorry I’m here.

It’s like a time line into my own lucidity and lunacy.

Things I very much keep a tight lip on.

Feeling mental.

Feeling cold.

Feeling oddly… motivated.

Upheaval to evolution and poof… back to feeling like I can barely contain a grasp on reality.

Logically, it’s the cycle of healing from things I could not control as a child.

Logically.

I know that, but it doesn’t make me feel any more normal.

There’s this part of me that knows no matter how much I like people, I will never really be known by them.

Not truly.

And it causes an ache in my chest that nothing seems to ease.

Because I am deeply ashamed of the things that have happened to me.

Because I still can’t talk about them without wild fury and tears.

So I listen and nod, too frozen to talk about my experiences in too much detail.

And so this deeply wounded part of me will only linger like a phantom between me and the people I try to hold close.

Creating a gap I am unable to cross.

I think it’s what makes people afraid of me or think I’m cold.

Make no mistake… there’s a great compacity in me for violence, malice, and apathy.

A part that enjoys pain and causing it in others, one that I will always battle with.

what I learned to be… but wish to deny.

I envy gentle women.

Soft women.

Those full of grace.

Those that walk only touched by light.

Those unmarked by the wreak of death.

But…

If I really think about it, I would not trade with them.

As much as I would like to be more like them.

I have walked the poison path for a purpose and I cannot change where I have been.

However…

I can learn from them, of the places I’d like to go.

And I am kind of okay with that compromise in the end.