The very existence of your soul in the same rotation as mine has me in chills. The cold touch of memories have faded to the whisper of a Winter’s breath. You are lost among the treetops, the Appalachian wonderland where you roam without worry. I, too, am lost. However, there are no footsteps to follow backwards. Two years of seasons have gone by and the rain washed away the tracks to lead me home. Instead, I wander onward toward the never-ending abyss of adventure and intrigue, a tiresome cycle of approaching the unknown.

The liberation you found was in your words, the creation of which came to you as easily as everything else in your beautiful world. The light surrounding you and your mind was of dazzling brilliance, and there was no chance that my darkness could be a part of that world; the universe simply couldn’t allow it. I made the mistake of following the path of righteous despair away from you and all the goodness you represented for me. I had to fall out of love with an idea of a person, because that’s all you can be for me while I roam, and I’m not in a place where I can stop. Not yet.

The world that I’ve created lives and breathes every day for my very existence, and no amount of narcissism can make me believe I will ever be good enough for you. So, go about your way without worry or a second thought about the trail of glitter you left behind. I’ll keep finding sparkles in my hair while I lean on what I believe to be solid, then take yet another step into the unknown. Maybe the next time our paths cross I’ll be a bit more brilliant, maybe even brilliant enough.

The world according to her was a beautiful, broken thing. She could stand atop mountains, taking in the seemingly infinite landscape of green, but in the end this would not satisfy her. She could take charge of hoards and reign men who once kept her locked in her own mind, but even that would not satiate her hunger. The only thing that would keep her sane was the reciprocation of a love lost before it began, a desperate attempt to feel something yet again, a failure of her own design. She yearned for the touch of her mirror image, one she has been without for longer than her ego cares to admit, the only one that left her shattered and torn. How could she rebuild a soul that had melted into a puddle on the floor? How could she feel the emotions that helped her stand strong when her body collapsed in a panic on the living room floor? How could she survive without her lifeline, without the person she’d allowed herself to be dependent upon? This world of hers fell in a matter of minutes, with the silence echoing between her sobs and into the landline they held in two hands from across the country. She began to see this love for what it had been, the end of their chapter. You could find the storybook covered in dust, resting unbothered on the shelf of someone who once loved her more than she realized.

Never before the wandering eyes of the world have I laid my foot upon it’s stage with a genuine smile, and yet here I stand on sturdy legs and heavy feet for I am fulfilled beyond the expectations of others.  However, the eyes in the back of my head are cloaked in contempt and longing for the chance to reach toward that which to the naked eye is unobtainable.  During the stormy nights and high, churning tides of the sea, there is but a glimmer of hope for me- a message in a bottle written by the hand of one who is not yet printed upon that page.  Do my eyes deceive me?  Do my legs prevent me from reaching the words which hold the hope of something more?  Should I reach out and grasp it or become accustomed to standing firmly in place with a smile?  Is there enough in this world to allow happiness to emanate from my being or shall I ask for more and threaten the glisten of what already exists?  The lights begin to shine upon the crowd of watchers, of attendees, and of those passing by, and their applause steadies me in place- allowing just once for a roar of appreciation to overpower the desire to lift my feet and flee toward potential.

It all melted away- all the people, all the noise, all the expectations I’d had for that night. I didn’t plan to end up in an alleyway basement listening to the thunder of a bass drum and locking eyes with a man I’d only just met, but for once I was freed of my overactive mind and its subsequent torments. The faceless bodies that swayed around us looked like six foot tall leaves of grass, with the wind of this song pushing them side to side.  The band was nameless and the music was a blur of lyrics and melody thrown together to create an opportunity for the local inhabitants seeking refuge below the busy streets.  You can’t blame me for losing the details in the back of my mind, for all I could witness was the crisp image of you leaning in, taking me freely, and the sensation of calm that washed over my previously damaged self. Solace in the chaos- it wasn’t what I sought out, but it’s what you illuminated within me, in the dark of the night, alone but no longer lonely, if on ly for one solitary moment.

I can feel myself sliding backwards, back into the pit from which I only recently emerged. It’s the black hole of mistakes made eons ago, decisions which dragged my consciousness through the mud, and missed opportunities in life and love. Never underestimate your mind’s power to captivate your emotions in a black box under the bed. You may not feel it as strongly as I do, or as immediately, but there is something within your soul, a darkness that emerges when you fight with a loved one or when you fail so dramatically that it crushes you. Do what you can to push those feelings aside and move forward. Don’t let that box expand to engulf all of you, very much like I did. Being self-aware doesn’t put up the shield, it just gives you the tools to protect yourself from the bottom of the pit.