I discarded a burden last night, writing into permanence this scared-cringing heaviness that has loomed right underneath my skin and wrinkles and blood-shot eyes since last September. It felt so good to face it, force it into a manageable form, archive it for my depressive curiousity in future days, and excrete it from my exhausted form. How did I finally know to do this? What caused all the feelings to adhere into a format? Why, when I began the writing, did all the words and memories line up in order? And what about all those mental snapshots I had repressed or forgotten, how did they reappear?
Do you know how it feels when you pass onward from something in your life...like, say, getting the cast taken off your leg now that it has healed? You hated that damn cast, cursed it and scorned it, but in the end your leg felt exposed and naked and odd without that loathed cast. That's how I feel now that I have dropped some of that gnawing pain, that unfinished conclusion, that ending to the ending. And fresh, deep breathes are easily come by, along with cleaner dreams and new directions. And hope has become an answered prayer instead of a breathy whisper.
This time in my life has been returned to me to repair, prepare, develop, and progress onward into the future I can now approach unhindered, standing upright with pride, and smiling with genuine joy.
No comments:
Post a Comment