A slow kind of twirl. Looking around, mesmerized. In this seemingly infinite matrix of interlacing gasps, I am no suspended rock. I sob and sob and petals unfurl, things burst open, a gate unlocks. I laugh and laugh, full-bellied - and rise up to meet mountain peaks. There's a thought lurking at the back of my mind these days, and sometimes, I feel it really close - almost there - and I anticipate the emotional flip-flop, ohgod, butofcourse, et cetra. But it doesn't come. It has a lot of kin, living in the fine cracks of my consciousness. I can sense the little civilization that I had believed to be extinct. Sometimes I wonder what I would say to the little, young me. So broken, such a liar, so alone, always sliding between the what-ifs and why-nots. I think I might know why my poor shadows don't slip out of their safe zones easily. They don't trust anyone. Least of all, me. I guess that's the hardest thing to admit. That you have been severely unkind to your own self, even when you were trying to do your best to get by, and get on. More so, then. That you really didn't mean to, but you built walls to drown out your own mind, because, who can sleep (eat, work, laugh, travel, live, love..) with weak, tired wails traveling across their psyche, every fucking moment of every other day? So, it's okay, really. I forgive myself my own hasty fixes. But it's a little overwhelming when I go for a slow stroll around my headspace, and bump into discreet walls and blocks and caves and locks. They all have my signature but I can't seem to remember the feverish nights I spent constructing them. And yet it's all there, every frenzied diary entry, stunning proof. So now I will wait, willingly softening each day. And when the traumatized little flashes decide to venture out, and shoot uncertainly across my mind's sky, I will patiently breathe and let them have their space. I will let them burst into indignant sparks and angry hisses, and watch the brilliant display unflinchingly. I will hold myself and breathe. And when they grab me and shake me, ask me things, I will let them berate and bicker, spit the words that had long choked their light, and I will feel it pass, and just breathe. I will let the tears flow quietly, and try to hold space. And if I have anything to say, I will try to speak honestly, in few words and zero metaphors. Otherwise (and ideally,) I will be still, and present, and try to be the kinda kind I always craved.
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