Coming Home (as an infant)

They took away my favorite writing place.
Stole it right out from under me and never asked my permission.

I was able to redeem everything, but that’s just not the point.

Where do I go now?

Where do I purge into space and nothingness and let it all hang out, cooties and scabs and scars and all?

I’m tired of being quiet.

Some days it all loses it’s appeal – the silent sanctuary of the mind and the inner, unspoken truths and uglies.

Some days I want to scream it – slap you in the face with it – be out with it and done with it and rid of it all.

Mostly, I miss feeling like someone out there really knew me.

Saw it all, and understood. Got it.

Endured it.

Stuck around to nod and say nothing.

Because some days saying nothing is best when it comes to the

uglies of others.

I need to be understood because I don’t understand myself.

I don’t know me anymore.

And even when it was worst, even when the walls were crumbling down,

I was always absolutely certain I still got me.

I know what to expect from me. I know what I mean and want

and thinkfeeldo.

I knew to anticipate my own reactions.

I was comfortable with the terribleness of it all.

 

Sure, there’s beauty too.

 

Things left unrecognized. Saved only in my mind with zero

tangibility and that bothers me.

I want substance and passion and that fleeting, freeing

feeling again.

I’ve come to take it home again.

I’ve come to claim what’s mine.

____________________________

It’s quiet outside my pursed lips but loud

inside my head today.

Disappointment rings louder than any other emotions lately,

and I never remember expectations hurting more

than sadness.

I don’t remember a lot of things, really.

Part of me feels like an infant – feeling my way through this wicked

world on wobbly legs, rounded toes and with eyes that only see shadows and outlines.

I recognize voices and smells, familiarity can silence my cries,

and I feel like I often might shit my pants.

 

It’s scary – this big world.

It was never so big as today –

seems to be getting larger and all-consuming.

 

I’m frightened of being consumed, or just plain

spat out.

 

I want to have my place again. I want a comfortable spot.

I want to know my role and be acclimated to it –

even if I don’t like it.

I’m coming home.

 

*-V.