I looked at you, and I was proud
Proud to have met you
Proud to have touched you
Proud to have moved you
Proud to have loved you

One. Two.
It's windy where I walk, and muddy.
Three. Four.
I'm unstable and keep getting my feet stuck.
Five. Six.
I fall down.

One. Two.
It's cold now, as the wind hits me where I'm wet.
Three. Four.
It seems stickier. I shiver.
Five. Six.
Then I hear the voices.

One. Two.
"You'll never make it!"
Three. Four.
"You don't even know anyone who ever has!"
Five. Six.
A tear falls.

One. Two.
I'm pushing my hardest.
Three. Four.
I'm crying uncontrollably.
Five. Six.
It doesn't seem to be enough.

Don't you see? Don't you see me trying? Don't you see me crying? Is none of it enough?
Will it ever be enough?

Seven. Eight.
*I won't give up.

I hear a sound. A creak. I look around, but I've been surrounded by darkness for so long that I wouldn't be surprised if I had gone blind.
And then I see it.

Light

Firstly, I'm amazed that I can see it.
Secondly, I'm struck by its presence.
Light? How? Where from?

"Who's there?"
‎No voice

A part of me wants to go toward the light. It's beautiful. It's radiant. It feels like freedom. But I don't seem to be able to. I can walk around it, but my body refuses when I try take a step toward it. The physical prison I've been in has formed within my mind, and I come to the grave realisation.

*I'll never be free

I arrive.
I knock on the door. It's jammed.
You're inside.
I wait outside as you try to open it, but your key's broken.
"It'll take a while," you say.
It's a beautiful day, so I wait outside. We talk through the wood, and you open a window so we can talk easier.
A cold wind starts to blow.
"It's cold," I say.
You pass me a jacket from inside, and I wear it. It's not so cold any more, and I'm alright. We keep talking, and you're figuring out a way to open the door.
I feel a drop on my nose. Oh my. Rain.
I ask if I can help. I can't. You take my bag through the window. I won't fit.
Maybe we can break the lock? Maybe we can break the door? Maybe a back door? No, none of those. Another drop on my cheek. Oh my. Rain.

The truth is, if you wanted to let me in you would. You'd figure it out and I'd be inside, warm, with you.
The truth is, it's raining. And I don't think I should be risking penumonia.
The truth is, you have my bag, and everything in it.
The truth is, if you don't let me in, I'll be forced to leave.

*And the truth is, I don't want to.

Sometimes I wish I was a brainless drone

To not be laboured by heavy thoughts
To not be concerned by outer affairs
To do only what I've been programmed to do
Feel only what I've been programmed to feel*
To live my life with a blank stare
With no smiles, with no tears*
So that everything wasn't so painful
Even if it'd mean I'd feel never joyful

I'd wake up every morning, blink three times
Wash my face, brush three times
Every breakfast, have three bites
Have a cup of coffee, as I begin to sell my soul
To the wheels that would control me, that chain my soul


Sometimes I wish I was a brainless drone
To not get so tired
To not feel so alone

It still hurts
When I lie awake in my bed at night
Staring at the ceiling in the dark
It still hurts
When I'm walking down the street
Watching my feet hit the ground in rhythm
It still hurts
When I stare at myself in the mirror
Early morning when I'm brushing my teeth
It still hurts

It'll always hurt
but I'm used to it

I'm on my knees.
Soaked. Choking. Dying.
I fall flat.
Gasping. Coughing. Crying.
On the shore.
I survived.

I open my eyes.
Blinking. Squinting.
My body is frozen.
I'm crying.
I survived.

*I'm alive.