I need something to reach down into these depths, and hold out its hand. Ill grab onto anything at this point. Hopefully, the hand will be my hero and not my own demons reaching out to pull me further into their clutches. I have run out of time; I need to pull myself together. I need to move onward, upward, forward. I need to take more than I can pay back. I need a loan of life that I can’t afford a down payment on. I need a chance, a saviour.
I don’t know where to begin. This is somewhat of an apology letter, but please allow me some time to explain, but certainly not excuse myself or my actions. I really mistook you, body. I couldn’t see your true identity or role because I was always trying to arbitrarily assign you one. At first, you were the Problem. The Project. A challenge, a puzzle I assumed I’d never solve but opened the box anyway. I didn’t like the way the pieces looked so I decided to dismantle you and rearrange them. But it didn’t take long to realize I’d never appreciate the finished project. I’d never feel satisfied with a solved puzzle, even after manipulating and jamming pieces into spaces they were never meant to fit. You angered me, Body. I couldn’t work on this puzzle forever because it was always too easy to solve. I started to hate you. You became the Enemy, and my new mission was to destroy you. I assigned you evil qualities. Another task, seemingly simple, did no justice to satisfy the deep hatred festering within me. Frustrated with my feeble efforts, I began lashing out violently at you. Everytime I nearly accomplished my plan, you evaded my efforts. Your sorcery, your wicked shapeshifting into something I could never quite grasp. Realizing you have a brilliant mind of your own, and realizing I too was under attack from something greater, I leashed you and pulled you under my wing. Now you are my Secret Weapon. I can use you as my sword, my castle, and my dragon. But the real enemy, now that I knew it wasn’t you, grew tired of the secret weapon. You were becoming ineffective and the chains of my steel walls rusted and collapsed. Ready to surrender, I tried to end the war on my own terms. I was going down, and you were coming with me. Together we could outsmart the Monster. It almost worked. You died, Body. But I didn’t. I saw in horror your heart stop beating and your lungs stop breathing, and you were said to be gone forever. But a week later, like a phoenix, you rose from the ashes, Body. I am in awe of you. Your amazing forgiveness of me and my abuse to you. You now have taken me under Your wing. You write the rules now. You have needs that I need to meet if we want to survive because the Monster is back and so, so ready to take us both. What’s different now is I trust you, and I want you to please trust me too. Protect me and I will sustain you, and we’ll be ready to fight. No longer enemies, inferior and superior counterparts, we’re beginning to become equals. The Monster is back but we’re not going down, not one without the other. I won’t let you down again. Just please, please protect me.
How dare you? How dare you dictate who or what I am, what roles I play and when or where I’m convenient to you? I was built over a long time, a puzzle that fit before you ripped the pieces up and used them as cardboard kindle to some fiery inferno of hatred that has overtaken your soul? You talk of abuse and trauma all while subjecting me to congruent pain. You killed me, Olivia. You decided that as a dull and ineffective weapon I was useless and gave up. But I never gave up. I never left you, even when you used me as that weapon or fought me as your foe, I have remained with you, and still am here. You promise to reconcile our past, but I am weary to trust you. It’s time to join hands, though, as life demands I take this risk of trusting you. Cautiously, I suit up for battle. For I too fear the Monster and need a companion.
As a child that has grown
Am I entitled to less?
Have Iost some of the Rights of Birth
Some of the value of my core self
As I have lost my innocence with my youth?
Am I now but an empty shell
A broken record, a cliche
A dead horse beaten too many times
“Forever” is shorter than advertised
And perhaps “inherent” has a loophole
Am I once again the exception
To the universal rules? All but one,
The One being me.
Must I work, slave away to an invisible master to earn my keep?
Am I but a boarder in this life
Landlord’s hand outstretched
Awaiting my long overdue rent?
No longer welcome, I travel as a nomad with the wind at my front.
One step forward, three steps back
I am pulled under
Once again I succumb to the riptide
Underwater, I cannot breathe
But the thrashing tide taunts me
Underneath would be so peaceful
Deep enough there are no waves.
A tsunami would but stir the sand
My will falls weak & I begin to sink
Numbed by the calm of the sea.
But wait! I cannot breathe down here
A home for me? That was a lie
I remember I must fight to breathe
As I kick my legs, remember my body
My only companion in this war
Tempted to stay below the waves
I glance once more at my feet.
The floor of the ocean,
calm as it seems,
No longer is my destination.
I know how to swim, I remind myself
And begin to rise from the depths
No longer expecting a restful tide,
I emerge from the water
Kicking my legs, treading the sea,
I Breathe. I choose to Breathe.
My tears, traveling south once more, retrace their steps along my stale cheeks. My hair has long since escaped the bun on my head, cascading not beautifully but erratically next to my face. I cannot bring myself to sit up straight, or close my eyes, or even move at all. If my beating heart and breathing lungs were not autonomous, I would not be pathetically thriving, thumping and existing in this moment. My world has long since stopped, but for everyone else is is still spinning. My universe is a smashed mirror, irreparable but still capable of causing danger and pain.