i feel lost in the middle. I’ve torn down my false construct that my life was propped up on since i was 6, and I’ve burnt off the mask to reveal my vulnerable essence.
I thought it would be a lot different. I thought I’d jump into a hip and powerful reality energized by my true self. I didn’t think I’d end up in this grey area of … paradoxes in my closet.
Of unsettling uncertainty. Of seemingly bottomless oceans within. Of unpredictable waves and winds that become storms and tsunamis.
i feel uncomfortable in this stillness. I run around in circles just so i can feel like I’m heading somewhere. Who am i fooling.
There is no escaping the fact that the only thing left of my real self are ruins. Landmarks. Bits and pieces that suggest a past. You’d be forgiven for failing to see the traces of existence.
I’ll sit here and listen to the deafening wails and feel the whipping winds that have been locked up in the shadows for decades, on my raw skin. To allow is to suffer.
I’m paying for my emancipation.