There is a battle inside me. Things are fighting deep in the pits of my thoughts where demons wager against the scum struggling skin to skin, punching the other to a pulp and they cheer and drag in the next one. And all of these are parts of me who war against one another. I am sending my best and they return defeated.
I fall to my bed exhausted although I’ve had 12 hours of sleep. My body is beaten. There are aches on muscles, a searing burn along my shoulder and my knee joints are twisted, my feet have felt so much pressure. I wouldn’t say out loud that I have struggles. I know souls who hurt. Oh, they hurt. I wouldn’t say it out loud, but I am hurting too. I have been stabbed and maybe I’m the one with the knife, bringing the blade to my chest in a righteous penance. Offering up myself as a sacrifice to the sky that bears no healing. I was a little girl who cut my wrists for the sins I committed that nobody knew about.
This is not show and tell. I’m not comparing. Don’t you know there’s no room for that here? That here is the place we heal? We’re in a hospital strapped to beds and tubes gazing around at all the other bodies thinking I’m glad I’m not the only one.
Come and sit and let’s share stories of glory days, or maybe of the gory days. I am affronted everyday by arrows, zipping by, and my brain is the bullseye. My brain is a stabbed dartboard. They’re all rushing by at the same time, and I know that soon they’ll collide. My brain is a busy highway. And all it takes is one lousy fucking text message from a male to throw me off balance. Don’t you think balance is key? I have a keychain that jingles and it takes me forever to get into my house because I have so many keys. You would think I’d know which one it is by now.
I unlock the backdoor at 4am and stumble into my bed. I feel beat up. I was outside beating myself up smoking a cigarette and coughing up my lungs. I am running away, running into things. I have bruises along my legs. But I have nothing to apologize for, there is no one to appease except me.