November 29th, 2017
I never knew
that a brain injury could result in me
forgetting what it feels to be
me.
Until recently, I had forgotten how lonely and desolate it is
to forget how to exist in the skin you have occupied for almost twenty years.
These past few days have left me
dazed and confused,
slowly drowning in a sea of uncertainty.
It feels like the world has been shredded and
patched back together again,
but the pieces don’t mesh and
everything I see has shifted slightly,
the lines blurred and the images faded.
A fog has coated me and
I can’t seem to find the lighthouse that’s supposed to guide me back to safety.
Since I fell and hit my head,
the low hanging clouds that surround me and my ability to think
have also corrupted my sense of comprehension.
But even with this mental fatigue,
I can still feel the fissures you left behind,
and the pain radiating from these open wounds hasn’t dulled with
the lull in brain function.
These clouds have not stitched together the cleft you left
in my sense of stability and
all I can think about,
instead of classes and healing,
is how to regain my footing on the shifted stage you left behind.
For as long as we have played this twisted game of
cat and mouse,
you have constantly been a hurricane of halcyon,
a blaze of balance,
a gale of uneven serenity.
Somehow,
I found stability amongst your chaos.
Despite the ghosts that haunted your steps and the
demons that seemed to live in the corners of your room,
you reminded me of what love and
well-being can be.
But just as quickly as you made this reality of volatility home,
you changed your mind and
turned a blind eye as you casually,
selfishly,
so God damn effortlessly,
took apart the thin webs of normalcy you watched me
painstakingly knit together again.
How could you so easily
disassemble something you have spent months constructing?
I used to call myself self-destructive and a danger to myself,
but you take the crown for most likely to
allow anybody who could possibly love or
save you
to become engulfed in the flames of your fear and confusion.
You have dedicated yourself to this preposterous quest of self-destruction and
have severed countless bridges that lead towards possible salvation.
Maybe,
now that you have pushed me away and
stolen my newfound ability to breathe with cracked ribs and
patched lungs,
I will relearn what it means to be in solidarity with myself.
Maybe
I will regain my balance and the world will cease being a
topsy-turvy sideshow that only seems to want to tear me down
one strand of confidence at a time.
Maybe
I will stop holding my breath every time someone speaks to me,
praying that the wrong words won’t slip from my lips and
instigate yet another temporary finale to this catastrophe we call a relationship.
I never knew
that a brain injury could result in me
forgetting what it feels to be
me.
But I have always know that you and I end
in silence and totality.
Our conclusion was inevitable and I have been counting on
aching fingers how long it would take to detonate
the bomb of doubt you have resting on your chest.
It seems that we have finally
reached the point of no return and
for the first time in days
I feel clarity.
I never knew
that a brain injury could result in me
forgetting what it feels to be
me.
Until recently, I had forgotten how lonely and desolate it is
to forget how to exist in the skin you have occupied for almost twenty years.
These past few days have left me
dazed and confused,
slowly drowning in a sea of uncertainty.
It feels like the world has been shredded and
patched back together again,
but the pieces don’t mesh and
everything I see has shifted slightly,
the lines blurred and the images faded.
A fog has coated me and
I can’t seem to find the lighthouse that’s supposed to guide me back to safety.
Since I fell and hit my head,
the low hanging clouds that surround me and my ability to think
have also corrupted my sense of comprehension.
But even with this mental fatigue,
I can still feel the fissures you left behind,
and the pain radiating from these open wounds hasn’t dulled with
the lull in brain function.
These clouds have not stitched together the cleft you left
in my sense of stability and
all I can think about,
instead of classes and healing,
is how to regain my footing on the shifted stage you left behind.
For as long as we have played this twisted game of
cat and mouse,
you have constantly been a hurricane of halcyon,
a blaze of balance,
a gale of uneven serenity.
Somehow,
I found stability amongst your chaos.
Despite the ghosts that haunted your steps and the
demons that seemed to live in the corners of your room,
you reminded me of what love and
well-being can be.
But just as quickly as you made this reality of volatility home,
you changed your mind and
turned a blind eye as you casually,
selfishly,
so God damn effortlessly,
took apart the thin webs of normalcy you watched me
painstakingly knit together again.
How could you so easily
disassemble something you have spent months constructing?
I used to call myself self-destructive and a danger to myself,
but you take the crown for most likely to
allow anybody who could possibly love or
save you
to become engulfed in the flames of your fear and confusion.
You have dedicated yourself to this preposterous quest of self-destruction and
have severed countless bridges that lead towards possible salvation.
Maybe,
now that you have pushed me away and
stolen my newfound ability to breathe with cracked ribs and
patched lungs,
I will relearn what it means to be in solidarity with myself.
Maybe
I will regain my balance and the world will cease being a
topsy-turvy sideshow that only seems to want to tear me down
one strand of confidence at a time.
Maybe
I will stop holding my breath every time someone speaks to me,
praying that the wrong words won’t slip from my lips and
instigate yet another temporary finale to this catastrophe we call a relationship.
I never knew
that a brain injury could result in me
forgetting what it feels to be
me.
But I have always know that you and I end
in silence and totality.
Our conclusion was inevitable and I have been counting on
aching fingers how long it would take to detonate
the bomb of doubt you have resting on your chest.
It seems that we have finally
reached the point of no return and
for the first time in days
I feel clarity.