I sit here in some kind of unnamed emotional or just some kind of space. Trying to make sense of something that has no sense. No reason, no rhyme, just utter stupidity. I’m free but it doesn’t feel like it. Something simmering for a very long time finally boiled over, hot liquid running down the side of the boiling pot. The liquid finally meets the hot stove surface and sizzles. More steam arises enticing more liquid to run down the other side of the boiling pot. it won’t end until it ends. The liquid can not go back in the pot. It is gone forever. Only a memory of it remains. Only a memory.
Take the pain and stuff it. Hide it, move it far away from sight. Don’t talk about it, don’t think about it, and you can make it. You can go on because in you is the stuff survivors and winners are made of. It’s flight or fight, and you fought and won, but it doesn’t feel like victory. It feels like it was a job, a duty, a task that fell in the order of things. It was a last minute addition. A pinch hitter brought in to win the game. The first swing is a foul ball. Speeding down the 3rd base line. The pain strikes again this time missing the target leaving itself open for the ultimate ending. Not letting it beat me, not wanting to show weakness or vulnerability. Stay strong, stay the course, end this dreadful game of pretend. Show your real feelings. Say what’s really on your mind. It’s better that way. Now you know where I stand and what I’m capable of.