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summersmithc137-1 · 1 year

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Two sides of the same coin

Inside my brain exists two versions of myself, accompanied by the multiplicity of personalities that constantly battle for the spot light in either.

One version of myself romanticizes her childhood and relationship, every part of each. She sees the sun and is inspired to be big enough to be remembered. She fights for the betterment of her environment, herself, and those she loves from the moment that she wakes up until she goes to sleep at night. She is a lover and she chooses to see the best in people, no matter how many second chances they need. She sees strength in quiet, resilient, beauty.

The alternative version of myself remains caged until the sunny side gets too happy. If the summer love and flowers version of myself reaches a peak, she must reach up to the mountain top where we keep this alternative version caged. She can reach through the bars and twist our perspective, tells us that we are weak because she is the part of myself that recognizes that we feel everything so very deeply... even when that feeling is completely empty and naught. She is the part of me that feels each and every betrayal, the weight of all of those unfulfilled promises, the sting of every lie, the slap of every misstep, and the gut wrenching agony over every failure. She sits and she waits to remind us that our life is not a secret garden. We are not some treasure. We are nothing to anyone, because we are not even important to ourself.

When the two halves come together, it locks me in that cage. I remain subdued and obligated to watch as the cruel part of my brain that hates that I love anything, and feels that love more deeply than I ever believed someone could, tears down those relationships. I have to watch as from my own lips escape the blows that will harm and there seems to be nothing that I can do to stop it. All I can do is hold myself as two sides of the same coin fight for an outcome that will never be fulfilled.

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summersmithc137-1 · 1 year

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Suffocation... No breathing

Water is peaceful when you do not fight. If you let your limbs relax it will guide you in a breathless dance that ends in peace. Your peace. Forced upon you by the waves.

Water is a force to be reckoned with if you fight back. The waves will push you down and throw you on the sand, holding you down until with fearful resolution, you understand that it is over. Peace achieved. But you were afraid before it happened.

More and more lately, I find myself sitting somewhere at the bottom of the pool. In this pool, I don't need to breathe. I simply need to exist inside of my own mind with total isolation.

I used to have space to retreat, 900 square feet felt like an ocean of space to be alone. Now, in over 2,000 square feet of oceanic homeland, I feel suffocated.

I didn't try to fight the waves, not at first. I tried to sit at the bottom with the sand, letting it sift through my fingers as I sat at a depth far enough to watch as the white peaks crashed overhead.

I heard a call to land, but it was a siren. She was a clever beast, beautiful, young, loud clear singing voice. But she sang her song in another direction and I heard the call. I heard the call and I tried to save the soul she was preying upon. At which point, a captain of a nearby oceanic homeland came to rescue the beautiful siren, throwing me into the shallow sea chained to concrete blocks.

So now here I sit, at the bottom of an actual ocean instead of at the bottom of my pool. I no longer control the water, though I suppose I never did. I no longer feel peace, though I was once surrounded by it. I can feel my tears fall as silent sobs rock through my chest though I am fully submerged beneath the relentless waves. Those waves beat down on me until I am sure they will form my coffin in the sand as they subdue my will.

But though the waves beat me down, they do not drown me for they understand that would be more kind. Death would be a mercy. Living is the challenge.

So here I sit, unable to live, unable to die, slowly suffocating with no end in sight.

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summersmithc137-1 · 1 year

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Day 1

It was the year of doing anything and everything.

It was the year of possibilities and exciting opportunities

There was a fight that started wars and I have found those wars to be exhausting

No longer motivated, day one became tomorrow and tomorrow became the day after. The day after tomorrow became Monday and quickly I spiraled into a seasonal depression.

The trees were still dead, the weather still cold. The sun only shone through the clouds to remind me what I was missing.

The warmth of the light, the promise of productivity, the possibility of greatness, the assurance of knowing myself, the thrill of peace.

All of these things I have been missing in a place that they used to come naturally.

All of these things I have been missing at a time in life where things should be getting better.

I thought that I would be better by now.

I thought the anxiety would wane, the motivation would spontaneously rise from the ashes like a phoenix of newly established since of self worth.

If I am a phoenix, I am the most pitiful kind.

If I am a phoenix, why then do I not rise?

I am not a phoenix. I am a mouse.

I let them cage me years ago. I let them push me down. I let them tinker away at my exterior until they exposed my viscera and organs to shape them at will.

At the end of day 1, I was already defeated. At the end of day 1, I was in chains. At the end of day 1, I realized that I was still a mouse stuck in a cage and began to fear I would never rise.

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