Scorched

What's new Emily?

You were broken up with after a short romance where all you felt was drowning anxiety and all you could think about was how many times you've wanted to trust but don't actually believe it's possible because the world tells you it isn't. Nobody is unbreakable. No bond is protected indefinitely. We all lose the people we love over and over again, then dust ourselves off to find some hope in a new person while carrying the pain of prior losses on our backs. We wear it on our faces, sending unspoken signals to others who, deep down, want to repeat the same cycles just like we do; they are familiar, they are known, it's what we are used to.

Feel your feelings, go through not around, lay down and breathe in the crippling loneliness, as if feeling it will empower some mystical resolve to love yourself more fully and eventually attract the secure ones.

Years of therapy and self-actualization lie before me, and while I know I have climbed to an elevation I couldn't have imagined before, I look down at the abyss below me and fear I will fall. If I did start to fall, would someone catch me, or would I have to scream for help and hope for an outstretched hand or widened ledge; I'm not good at asking for help. It's easier to stay inside my mind, to feel critically unique, as if the masses aren't experiencing these same type of feelings while our world crumbles around us in infinite ways.

She just turned 18 and is already leaving, it's her turn to see what the world provides. Maybe she will do better than I have, it's all I can hope for at this point. We have rebuilding to do after multiple traumas, we lost trust with each other along the way. She was my only reason for living, now I have to find myself again, outside of her, distant. Survival mode must transition to attempted thriving.

You're six months sober and four months out from being put under the knife. The things you used to cope with before aren't options now. Brace yourself when the tears flow, when the hole in your heart gets torn some more, hold onto it, acknowledge the girl who is scared and envelop her in your embrace. You're the only one who can fully see her, stop hoping for others to as well.

Now you sit by the fire, imagine it moving toward you with its ferocity, but it stays in its contained boundaries and you realize you have to contain yourself if you ever hope for your life to not remain as scorched as it feels right now.

Emily C. Poésie © 2021

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