Fear

 

Maybe if I keep this up I’ll be prepared for it all. Maybe if I prepare for all of the worst it won’t be so bad when they happen.

It’s maybe this, maybe that…it’s hard to keep track.

You tell me everything will be fine and that in time I’ll believe you; but can that really be true?

I’m so jaded by what’s real and what isn’t, that pretending you’re a dream and I’ll wake up is the easiest explanation.

Bring me back, reality; therefore I won’t fear the dream. I’m constantly battling the fantasy of fairytale.

 

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It starts in Dream Sequence

Sometimes, if I work it just right, it’s as if it never happened. I can gallivant through my days like a school girl. Laughing. Dancing. Drinking.

Other days it starts from the silence of sleep. Vulnerable. Penetrating every dream sequence. You are there. Replaying variations of rejection.

The best version of myself is the one that’s an actress. Holding and hiding. Oscar-winning.

Happy Anniversary

This time last year my relationship was in complete turmoil. The kind that makes you obsessively contemplate, “what will make this better?” Your desperation to fix your relationship is multiplied by your desire to no longer feel…destroyed. I’m not sure if that’s a strong enough word for how it feels when the world has lost it’s shape and all things seem to be unrecognizable.

Quite literally I was crushed. Crushed beneath the weight of it all. I couldn’t crawl my way out of the pit that I had fallen into. For some reason the happiness that I could have, easily, didn’t align with the happiness that he needed. And he would not live without what happiness he desired, there was no room for compromise. But to try to figure all of this out with someone who could not process their own feelings. What is there to fix?

Somehow we carried forward. Limping. And the emotional toll was taken from my body. My physical health deteriorated quickly with a flu that was unwavering followed by a cyst in my chest. Horrible. It was as if the emotional damage was taking a physical manifestation.

Fast forward.

Here I am again, the anniversary of it all. Divorce is final. Sickness has returned, as well as the cyst.