Snapshot of Me.

Ever wondered what you look like on the outside?

I'm hardly what I'd call a camera-savvy person, but I can't deny that sometimes, I wonder what I look like. When I'm battling things inwardly, does it show? When I'm being fake-happy, is it obvious? When I want to burst out into very noisy tears....?

Maybe having a camera on me 24x7 wouldn't be such a bad idea.
Temporarily only. Otherwise I'll just go nuts.

And we don't wanna know what that  looks like.

On so many levels though, I wonder what I look like. What kind of a person do I appear to be? At first sight? When you get to know me a little better? When you know me inside out?

Right now, I know I feel exhausted. And two nights of restless sleep aren't why.

But when I look into the mirror, I just isolate things. Dark circles ringing the expressionless eyes. Mouth corners turned down, unsmiling. I don't know how they come together, what they say.

I feel like I'm drowning in myself again, trying to escape from something very specific on the outside, that I'm barely avoiding running smack into.
Which..I kinda am.


Why do I have to run away every time?

What do I look like when all I want to do is run away? Far, far away.

Fear. So much fear.

I'm tired of being afraid.
Of having control, but still no control.

If only I could
take snapshots of me
put them up
for the world to see
I'd point out how
I was made to feel
since I never show
the real deal
Closet in 
on what's left of me
while they express
their sympathies
'cause they don't care
even if they know
not knowing was
just an excuse, though
They'll go on
leave me home
maybe it's better
being on my own.


Rhyming isn't my forte. Neither are nursery-style poems. (Limericks? Not technically. Those are supposed to be funny, right?)

Signing off.

Echoes.

I lean over the railing that separates me from the gushing, frothing water below. Drawing my jacket closer and hugging myself, I breathe out white in the clear still winter air. A dancing flickering reflection of my black-and-white swathed form peers back.

A black covered figure appears behind me in the reflection and puts her hand on my shoulder. Smiles. Kisses my neck. I gasp.

The cold wind whistles through my ears and the bite in it brings me back to earth. Echoes of music are drowned out as my misty eyes gaze at the water in focus again.
High notes, low notes. Smiles and tears and a lot of hurt. My heart on the floor, stomped over. I have to keep reminding myself of that.

A cold, desolate desert, and the water that was below me has vanished. The barren, frozen wasteland that seemed to be my life after you left me. Impossible to navigate. To survive.

Deserts and endless oceans later, I come to myself and see what’s left. Wounds and scars slit open again. Very little left to salvage.

Slowly, very slowly, learning to smile truly again. Smiling into a mirror to make sure it reaches the sad empty eyes.

Fake and real smiles later, going through a night without dreaming about you. Having silly dreams about cartoon characters again.

Dreams, nightmares and sleepless nights later, finding it in myself to talk to other people. Without grieving you at least once in every conversation.

Many conversations later, making new friends. Trying to look forward to the lifetime I’d overlooked in my childish stubbornness to remain sad about you. That I am still young, all of seventeen years and six months old. Not ancient, not here since the dawn of time.

Very little had been left to salvage, so I built a new self.

Reconstructions and recoveries later, looking into a mirror and feeling truly proud of myself.

High notes, low notes. Smiles and tears and a lot of hurt. My heart on the floor, stomped over. I still remember that.

But I’ve left it all behind.