• The Shadow of the Future

    I am tethered to it, no matter how remote it seems, no matter how impossible. Connected, every part of me, by delicate threads. Each movement ripples away behind the veil of time. It's not opaque. I can see shadows and light dancing across the surface.I move and the shadows move, I get hints of how they connect. It's not always perfect, I can't control everything, but the way I move, it moves like me, I can control this. ...

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  • Positivity

    A bloated word, embarrassing, in florescent colours. It grins at me. It is an unfeeling word.I want to pop it like a balloon and watch it whir across the room and reach the floor, deflated and realistic.It is used irresponsibly, that word. You should need a license to use that word. Only those who use it properly should be allow it. It is not a door you can simply step through, a place that you suddenly ...

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  • Every Single Failure

    I collected secrets daily.I promised mysef that each was the last. A promise that lasted a day, then needed replaced.I filled up with these discarded promises, 'til I was brimming. Sickened,locked in a chamber with all my daily failures, and they summed me up.I could not see myself as anything otherthan the sum of all these parts. I kept them there, inside a feeble belief I could digest them all myself,that eventually this mass of broken promises, failures, ...

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    Tags:
    courage,
    recovery,
    sense of self,
    self-knowledge,
    truth
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  • Territorial

    A force inside my mind,inside my chest,a force that feels something like pain,but not quite,something like fear,urges me to go.  How much will I surrender to this feeling,this foreign part that comes from me,but is not me.Is not welcome. This feeling speaks a urgent language,it speaks to me in ultimatumsabout what I can and cannot endure. It says 'enough' several times a day,but I don't leave when it says leave.I don't give in when it tells me to.And ...

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    Tags:
    identity,
    recovery,
    despair,
    survival,
    endure
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  • An Old Skin

    A reflex to look backwards,just to be sure it's not still trailing,it's not catching up on me.Me: it's betrayer.An old skin,worn and peeling.I run my hands over myselfI reassure myself at least three times a daythat it hasn't made it's wayback there, behind my eyes,an old, dead self.Young and dying. Brittle skin,hard enough to crack, I watch out for the slow hardening,the scales appearing.Soften to myself,flesh too soft to break,but stretch and train its shape. 

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    Tags:
    sense of self,
    recovery,
    future
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