I feel you there
In a parallel Universe
The me that I haven’t lived up to in this one
Did you steal away my confidence
Maybe took more than your share
Do you laugh easily
And let harsh words roll off of your back
While I am still guarded after all these years trying not to be
And take everything people say to heart
Can we meet somewhere in-between our two worlds
What separates two parallels
Have an equal exchange
I’ll give you some of my excess
There must be something I’ve got that you want
I’ve summoned you
Too many times to count
Shaken out bottle after bottle
Finally smashed one to smithereens
Where have you been
Why won’t you answer my calls
Or are my wishes not meant to come true
Are you distracted elsewhere, dear genie o’ mine
I’m running out of faith, hope, and time
The clay of my youthful confidence
My birthright, my sense of worth
Was fret away early on
By rivulets of tears and snot
Sourced from enthusiasms bullied and bossed
Until over time there formed
A hard-won, hard-worn chip on my shoulder
That altered my stance forever
It’s hard to be open
Holding back so much
No one can reach me
No one can hurt me
No one can touch me
But who won what, I wonder
“Don’t be a crank,” she murmured to herself, catching herself for the thirtieth time in as many moments raking herself over the coals for the oversight she had made during the afternoon board meeting.
Two equally vocal self-parts were at war within: the part that finds any slight error a reason for killing oneself out of shame, and the part that longs to forgive and generously allow for such things, eager to defend well-intentioned human error at any moment.
Somewhere in-between those two internal parts sat a third part watching the whole thing, a part knew that both defense and crucification over such a thing as an error were sheer wastes of precious life energy, and so patiently awaited their voices to lose steam to get back to the moment at hand, which this part knew as the only moment that really mattered or even existed anyhow.
Inspired by The Daily Post Daily Word Prompt: crank*
*Crank describes me after I realized that I totally spaced last night. I was studying for a job today, and somehow, I thought I wrote a blog post when I didn’t.
My internal Perfectionista is truly berating me for the oversight. But thankfully, no one’s like is at stake if I forgot for the second time in many, many months of fulfilling my commitment to myself to create at least once a day.
I guess yesterday I did create — I created a state of confusion!
I feel the life drain out of my body
Depleted of my life force, I wane
What has triggered this self-abandonment
Where do I go inside
It feels like part of me just leaves
Drains off into a void somewhere
Leaving behind a shell
My skin hanging over my bones
My mind tangled and blank at once
My breath contained and compressed
The familiar iron wall in my gut
Shut, closed off from the world
Only my breath can bring me back
I breathe, slowly, in and out
I feet the iron wall begin to melt
My brain softens, tight thoughts dissipate
And I feel me begin to fill in
The caverns of my self once again
I felt a flutter
A tiny heart part
A glimmer of the seed of confidence
Growing up through the cracks
Of the broken sidewalk of my soul
I tried to nurture it
Tried to help it grow
Shone sunlight on it’s tendrils
Watered it with tears of relief
But it expired in time
Like a child’s first goldfish
Neglected after excitement’s worn away
And now there’s just grey cracked cement
And hard-packed doubt underneath
Where a sprig of hope used to grow
Thoughts tangle.
I trip inside.
An abrupt disrupt,
Attempted temptations
Collide with Puritanical
Whispers in my marrow
From ancient stern-lipped marms.
Harnessed and restrained,
My instincts choke,
Wane and die.
Only their ghosts remain,
Ricocheting within.
Yes, it’s true
I think most small talk
Is just froth
I’m sure it serves someone
But not me
Her eyes were luminescent
I saw straight into her soul
All else had been but stripped away
She was left to be simply whole
Her dying body housed a loving heart
And from that she shone and she was
I came to know that all that matters
Is our humanness – our goodness, and flaws
That’s perfectly fine.
I’m in no rush.
Go ahead and finish your conversation.
I mean, I’m just a customer in need of service.
There’s four of you behind that counter.
None of you are doing anything job-related.
Does Starbucks employ managers?
I think not.
Unless one of you is one of them.
Wow.
That’s a depressing thought.
I’ll just wait.
Send that Snapchat.
Read that text.
No need to bother yourself.
No need at all.
I’ll just work myself up into a lather,
And when you finally come over to me
And I let all hell loose on you,
You will treat me like I am the problem.
Maybe you’ll even report me to the manager-if-they-do-exist-at-all.
Not worth it.
I’m leaving and I won’t be back.
(Until next time.)
Beyond the Skinny Branches 