I have to write what I cannot speak. My life has turned into a series of abrupt silences. Impassioned speeches, then nothingness. A sense of direction, and one wrong turn that leaves me miles from familiar territory.
I am very good at disappointing people, when they expect it least.
I was set to meet my sponsor Cathy, this evening. Instead, I spent time in between dreams. My mind searches for excuses that won’t sound like blatant lies. None satisfy me, because I know the truth. I continue to run from change.
I have as much to sort out as I ever did. I am off the line, no longer dancing in a dizzying circle. And it seems to me that I envy what I once complained about. That my problems could have once been obvious. That they had some charm.
Every building, I have burned, and stayed as it was consumed by flames. I am among the voices, but none are mine. I build statues as a pastime, and to stand behind them, ever afraid to be large myself. I have made a reflecting pool of my eyes. Clip a wing, cut out a tongue. Remove all things that have never been of use. I am a servant without a master.
Here I am, underneath the point. Threatened by its sharp blade. Bravery has one name, and no need for praise. It is not found inside of me.
I have a dog, you know?