My scars run deep both internally and externally. Some have healed, but others have begun to show. Some have blossomed into beautiful flowers, while others created storms in my heart. I am a living and breathing monster of a human being. The voices tell me so as the thunder rages within. I’m waiting for the tsunami in my head to pull me under and drag me deep down until I can no longer gasp for air.
I have a war raging within me beckoning for a call. I feel like I am in an endless maze fighting for a way to get out. I toss and turn as sleep prevails me, but then I sleep so easily when I get tired from the endless tears. The screams from my past haunt my dreams like an internal chaos. My silent shouts are sent out like a Thu’um, but nothing is revealed.
I have tried so hard to hide or fight, but my fists fall aimlessly to the floor as a rocking chasm shakes my body. I have been through rejection and heartache and I have been feeling it so deeply lately. A monster shouldn’t be who I am. A raging hurricane shouldn’t be able to control my life, but it does anyway.
This is not my story. My story is of someone who has prevailed through thick and thin to try to get where I am today. My storm rages on, but I am still here. I am still here, even if countless times I wish I wasn’t. My hurt and my pain make it harder to breathe every day. I wish it all could go away within an instant, but life doesn’t work that way.
Finding an outlet eases the sorrow of the me I’ve lost. I’ve lost so much I haven’t been able to pick up the pieces or remember where I last left off. I do this in forms of poetry, writing my mind on a piece of paper and making my sorrow into something beautiful.
My story isn’t over yet.