To Be Determined

word vomit

I would like to formally apologize to the gravel roads and sanctuary floors that now know the grooves of my knees by heart.

I have been broken, paralyzed and beaten; I have feared myself more than most; more than anything.

I want to come home to a warm bed and wake up to something other than exhaustion, and bruises so on, so forth, you know how the story goes on.

a song I loved once spoke about the cold terror of coming to your senses and realizing that surrender does you no good when you no longer feel the things you know you should.

a song I hated once taunted me for the twist in my gut that never leaves, the ache in my heart that fades a little every evening, the loneliness that crushes me, the sadness that has become my mantle.

I look at the mirror and see sad eyes, wide eyes, mouth biting back anger, nail Mark's in my palms and I feel none of it.

an embrace echoes on my skin for days; a casual touch stings me for an hour, a smile wears itself behind my eyes for a minute, and any idle word should be taken back because I do not know how to be normal, to be loved, even though this is all I want.

someone told me once that anything I've been through could be made beautiful. in a crowded market, it made sense. on paper, it feels like a slow-bleeding wound.

let me bleed out in the paralysis of vulnerability and anxiety.