Week fifteen - Desire
I wish for once I could feel again. To feel the rain splatter on my cheeks in heavy currents, to feel the autumn cold seeping in my bones but warming me with the prospects of Christmas and long nights by the fire. God I wished I could have all that, only if for a night. For a moment, a second. Feel as I'm sure I once felt, before my heart became an icy tundra and my mind numbed down to mere mechanics. I cry, but never really cry. I never feel the tears slip out with passion and sadness. They just flow, an endless stream of salty water, hardly touching me. Sliding past my cold heart, sizzling and fading. It has become so, so ingrained, so much like a permanent state of being. Numb, cold. Unfeeling.
I fumble for a switch in the dark, a light in the endless night, only to find none. I take pills, let the mechanics of my mind take over. I live, I laugh, I work. But I'm not there. Deep inside, way in the corner of my heart the real me is tucked away, bawling and scratching at the bloody walls with such passion and heartache it scares me. I am in there. Locked inside my own prison. Doomed to watch as my body tumbles into the abyss, never to be saved again. My heart pounds as it always did, steady slow, with mechanical precision. I can't remember what it feels like when my heart starts pounding and my feelings spike. I can't remember the passion, the love, the anger. I can't remember any of it. She does, the one tucked in the corner of my heart. She feels it all, sees it all. Watches me destroy everything that brings me joy. She reaches out, softly sometimes. Letting her hands slip over the cold walls of my heart, loving, like the embrace of a mother. Fierce, kind, and with such passion never to let her babe come to any harm.
I try to let her love me. Nurture me like a new born babe. Mold me, enjoy me, see me. She cares for me, in my darkest moments even when I want to shut her out and kill her. When I want to silence her forever and give in to the feeling I've been feeling all this time. She fights, I don't. She slams against the walls of my heart, making it pound in shock. In feeling. She wants to come out. To fight me, to be me, to defeat me. I don't want that. I don't want her. But she keeps insisting. That we can work together, love together, feel sad together. That we can make mistakes, get better. I want to believe her. That she can warm the icy plains of my heart. Smooth over the ridges of all the scars and let them heal in perfectly imperfect lines over my body and my soul. I can't bring myself to open the cage, to let her push through. I'm not ready. But maybe once I will be, and we can co-exist like we need us to be. Not today, another time.
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