But to travel there is scary,
it means leaving the sunlight
behind. If only I can tie
an anchor to my love and
when the darkness becomes
too much her can pull me
back. Am I ready to travel
back to the place that I was
meant to leave behind? The place
of pretty razors and twisted whispers.
I wanted to get better, didn’t I?
Stop being paranoid– Stop cutting–
Stop being clingy– Stop being scared–
Stop getting angry– Stop crying–
Just stop. Stop everything.
Stop writing– Stop sleeping–
Stop the stories– Stop the characters from speaking–
Stop the words from flowing– Stop the poetry–
Stop my heart– Cut my life–
Allow me to enjoy my last breath, my final right.

Was that last comment suicidal?
Is it bad that I enjoy the taste of that sour note in my mouth?

I’m not home yet, although
I feel it is close. I need to
find my darkness again but
still keep a hold on my light.
I’m scared to find the balance
and reopen my Pandora’s box.
But I am not me if I shut
half of me out. My mother
won’t understand and she’ll
try tipping the scales at
the first chance she’s got.
Is my sanity and creativity
worth being seen as a monster
again? How will Andrew take the news?
Will I be a good mother still?
Am I still a good girlfriend?
Am I gonna be a bad daughter again?

Will the suicidal dreams return?
Will I live through a character’s
life instead of my own?
Is my story over I can’t
remember how to write?
If I was to travel back
into the dark, re-awake my
depression and become who I was–
Will I still be me?

Am I still me?

Because I feel empty right
now and am unsure how to
feel alive again.
With all my joys–
Love, life and writing, my soul.
I feel sick.
Tears threaten to fall.
But I will not.

Find the balance and find out who I am.

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