Let it Burn
I experienced a truly transformative moment a few weeks ago as I sat silently staring at the ceiling. The hysteria ensued in the same way I fell in love. It was sloppy and unpredictable, harsh and jagged. My body was convulsing as I laughed those deep, wholesome laughs that creep its way up your esophagus. The recollection of the sweat, tears, and heartache began its voyage of release. My eyes became glassy because I realized perhaps, in some sick, twisted way…I had thrived. I was granted the power to save myself.
Agitated and quick tempered, I was bitter as though the world broke that part of me pumping on the inside. I forgot what it felt like to progress- to position one foot in front of the other. Mystified in the abyss of what I passionately ached for, and what existed as my reality, I became stagnant. United together as two beings, we were unable to endure. I wanted to hide from those emotions that were dense and forget how much of myself I had sacrificed.
How dare I hide from the feelings that have scorched my insides? I needed to taste the repulsive nature of regret. How would I describe the taste of being broken? I suppose it possesses a pungent bite of rage. I even owned a bit of self-pity and denial. I was digging within myself to feel something, taste something, and see something. My emotional Mecca was clearly becoming visible.
I had begun to celebrate my history, the wounds, and the anger. Slowly, peeling away at the edges of my soul, there was beauty among whatever made relationships so deliciously maddening. Darling, I refused to accept a part time love. And instead I shed the cocoon of the me that once was. Sipping on something heavy and musky, I let it burn and brand this new me. The me that should be…the me that will be.