Another early morning rising in the dark, has never been my wish. I prefer the sunshine streaking in to open my eyes. As I age I find that once awake, it’s impossible to go back to sleep, even if there’s no sun yet and I’ve only slept a few hours. It is the same every night for the past few months. I can’t get words out of my head, and finding no relief, write them out. Do I express truths I don’t want to see? I thought I knew truth, believed in it. Every part of me wanted, needed, and did believe it.
This night I needed to make a decision–prove I had been lying to myself. So I wrote about what I was afraid of all along. That may not have been wise, but it’s done. . .there was a gnawing compulsion to do it, and sleep is difficult enough to achieve. Do I now feel regret? Maybe writing the feelings I didn’t want to realize was a form of self defense. If I convince myself all of it was a foolish unachievable concept, then will I be able to forget it?
I’m trying to climb out of a sad situation, need to for my own salvation, but at the same time it’s pulling me back. It’s time to regroup, as if that were even possible. I’ll never forget, and just saying that, maybe I have defeated my purpose? Is it an impossible task or do I (secretly) want to think it is? I try to see a future, a different life, only relying on myself–self preservation should be anyone’s priority. My mind knows this, so why can’t my heart accept it?
Keeping myself aloof, never being honest and showing my heart, that is not a way to live. Survive? Certainly. Really living? Not a chance. Putting up walls around your heart or yourself isn’t the answer. There is a happy medium somewhere. I need to find it.