herlucidlife

Went to another part of the country. Met folks I’d never laid eyes on yet they felt like family. Releasing my mind from the field of self-deprivation, I found myself forgetting the usual mundane worries I carry around every single day. Loading off to load on, sitting with my sister listening to the pain in her heart, it closely mimicked the pain of my own. Six years since mom left this earth, five months since her brother was relieved of his earthly duties. In different stages of grief, I understood the emptiness this hole in my heart won’t close all the way no matter the time past. Bitterness drowning the sweet nectar of life, brewing a reason to live in her belly. Knowing all too well that grief is simply living while being heartbroken, doing while being fragmented, producing while being bust open. 

Consciously moving through the air of time, it’s an illusion when I look back to that day six years ago feeling like one and a half seconds, just like yesterday. Reliving on repeat, I contracted the disease that stopped the world for two years. Still floating in the air I broke down at the thought of her miracle hands taking care of me as a child. No longer here, I would be a danger to her if she were here today, cancer riddling her body. Stuck in the house for a week, barely using my vocal cords, using the throat for eating and drinking only. Back in my world where life is just me stuck in my head for hours on end…I like it that way. Recluse, hidden from the world, I enjoy knowing most people don’t know in depth about my life. 

Writing to you, my dear reader, is like music to the soul. Face unseen, it’s easy to scribble, putting out of mind the thought of anyone reading, as some words go untouched. A journal, a diary of my deepest soul muttering words I wouldn’t dare tell someone to their face. Intimate to the core, I sit in my home unbothered by the outside world. Unwanted by the masses, kept like a secret of God. Been a year since anyone wanted to call me “theirs.” Been eleven months since time began a journey of singleness. Three hundred and sixty-five days since I walked out on a stingy love. Still till this day I loathe those years of marriage. Hurt in my heart I haven’t let go of the pain. The pain I caused you, the pain you caused me, the pain caused to each other.

I care for you, I genuinely look for goodness to sit at your doorstep sheltering you from the storm but behind your back I have nothing good to say. Villain in my eyes, I too look like a monster. Not liking who I am in your presence, needing to put my pride down to ask for your help.  Not deserving of your kindness or understanding or the help you give when I’m in need. Blessings would’ve been blocked if I’d held onto my pride. Thinking too highly of self can leave one alone and barren in the world. Poor in spirit, knowing everything I am is nothing without God. I too can only lift my head because He gives my body the strength to do so. 

My views are changing. My life is morphing into something I don’t always recognize yet somehow seems more familiar with each passing day. Never too far out of reach, not comprehending my own words and groans sometimes I like knowing only God understands who I am.