Last week, I posted The Legacy of I.
I typed with free hands, a free mind, and did not read back through it before clicking ‘Publish.’
Perhaps, I was scared.
Perhaps, I was terrified.
Perhaps, I just could not bear to read the words on paper (well, metaphorically).
I tried to reply to comments, but became overwhelmed.
No matter what the reason, I wrote it and left it and did not revisit it.
There was no warning label, no disclaimer, on the effects that writing that post would have on me.
At first, I was detached; I disassociated from the canvas I had painted publicly, and was fine.
But then, it crept up on me.
I saw a picture of my father, posted on Facebook by the brother of mine that I have little contact with.
Then, a cry for help went unanswered – at no fault of the recipient.
And I, once again, made a stupid decision,
that ended up costing me dearly.
I reached out to an old friend, and was betrayed.
I tried to hold myself together to the outside world. I painted on the smile that I wear so well, forced out the laugh that has become second nature, and was the girl that everyone needed me to be.
I could not breathe. I could not breathe. I could not breathe.
I could not see. I could not think. I could not walk. I could not be.
But to anyone not paying attention,
I was who they wanted to see.
I walk, and catch a scent. I sit and catch a scent. I shower and catch a scent. I lie in bed and catch a scent.
I am touched on the arm. I am looked at by a stranger on the street. I am smiled at by a passing man. I am spoken to with a specific tone, with a specific word. I am in bed and I feel his hands, their hands, all over my body.
And I remembered what I wrote here.
And I remembered him.
And I remembered those men.
And I remembered this man.
And I remembered what I have done because of them.
And I recoiled, into that place.
The place I hope will keep me safe,
but know won’t.
If I had gone it alone,
the way I had wanted to,
I would not be typing this now.
I would be getting high,
I would be getting fucked,
I would be hurting myself to quiet this noise.
I would not be here,
I would be there.
But I did not go it alone,
I had an angel by my side.
An angel that knew what I was thinking,
without any words.
An angel that saw when the pain crept up,
getting to be too much to bear,
An angel that caused me so much unease,
because he knew that was what was needed.
I am trying to get through this,
fight through this,
because I have to.
They cannot win.
I look at old pictures,
of little Loony,
and despite the pain that she went through,
I see hope in her eyes.
I see a little girl that still believes in the good,
that still believes that she will find miracles in the most unexpected of places.
In this moment,
I must reach out to her.
hold her close,
too close for comfort,
I must whisper in her ear that this is not the end,
that she is safe,
that she will not be failed again.
I must surround her with all of the love I have left in my heart,
and let her know that she
Thank you. To each one of you that read, that replied, that sent me messages at 3 am to make sure I was doing okay. There is no adequate way to describe what that kind of love & support does for me, and so I must leave you a very insufficient, but authentic, thank you.
And thank you, dear Gabriel, for not letting me drown.
Somewhere over the rainbow, way up high
There’s a land that I’ve heard of once in a lullaby.
Somewhere over the rainbow, skies are blue
And the dreams that you dare to dream,
Really do come true
Someday I’ll wish upon a star
And wake up where the clouds are far behind me.
Where troubles melt like lemon drops,
High above the chimney tops,
That’s where you’ll find me
Somewhere over the rainbow, blue birds fly
Birds fly over the rainbow
Why then, oh why can’t I?
If happy little bluebirds fly beyond the rainbow
Why, oh why can’t I?