- Books, Literature, and Writing
The empty parts of me are stirring. They are beginning to wake. After being dormant for so long they starve, they want, and they flush me with feelings that I have not had for a long time. They attack the mind. They paralyze me. They tear me from within. Relentless. I feel all their frustration and impatience which comes from years of entrapment. They pour it freely over me so that I live what they feel. They cause confusion. They work against my true nature. What they want I cannot have. As want comes back into my life, I remember how painful it sometimes was. Still, I am grateful. I would rather take pain and tears then not feel anything at all. I chant this as they fill me with want for the things that reject me, the things that won't allow me to have them. They would have me leap off a cliff and fly with no wings and so daily I go to the cliff and look at the endless sky. I stand there envisioning freedom, wanting it until I collapse to my knees and it brings me to tears as the wind tells me that it loves me and it will embrace me for a while every time I come but that it can't carry me and I deserve so much better than the freedom I would feel in its care. As if it could possibly know what I deserve. Every time I come it shakes my soul and every chance I get, I still go. As time passes, the hurt increases. You would ask me why? Well, loss is loss and hurt is hurt. It comes no matter how you avoid it or what choices you make. I can prolong my exposure to this form or make way for a new form to come take its place. It is always around and cannot be avoided. Those that turn themselves cold in order to avoid it suffer from it privately. Regret and loneliness tear into them at night when no one can see them. If pain and hurt are to be paid regardless of what we chose, then why not extend joy. I may not ever get what I want from the wind or the sky. I may be looked at as second best compared to the birds but I can still enjoy the moment on the cliff. So I will go until the pain becomes so great that it will overshadow the joy of the moment. At that point, my soul will no longer believe that the pain is worth the view. Such is the path of the so called strong.
So I grab the half formed face of that which is awakening in me with tears streaming down my face and I plead my case. Do not try to make me human. I am not a normal woman. I cannot be made to want the things that don't exist to me. I have no past since my memory fades. The only time that the future exists to me is when I look into the face of my daughter. The hearts of this world were not designed to accept me. There is no long story to be had. Very few could find happiness in me for a lifetime. I was not designed to be human enough to want what is found here. There are things that they want and strive for that I may never want. Their goals are not my goals. Their dreams are not my dreams. Many either live for their pasts or for their futures. I only exist in the present. You exist within me. You should not condemn me to feel alone in a world that I was not made for and have already grown accustomed to. My purpose seals my path and tho I am open to it, a long story never comes. If I am ever to fly at all, it may have to be alone without the wind.
With so much left dormant in me I am sure that once I learn how to control this a new one will awaken and throw me out of balance.I suppose it is a good test of my skills of being still and riding the storms.