All the pieces of me that are out of reach remain inside, they’re just encased in the entrails of what happened, and I don’t seem to be able to free them. if anything the constraints are getting tighter.


So, what’s left? Who was I before all this happened?

I always had issues. I don”t think anyone that had a childhood like mine could profess to have come out the other side unscathed. Before all this happened but after I had left home, I had discovered who I was, I was at peace with my identity, I almost even loved myself. No, I DID love myself. It took two decades to get to that point, and once I had, I enjoyed who I was. I had found my way in the world around me, I tried to surround myself with people like me. I had started to discard the remnants of what had gone before, I had worked through a lot of what had scarred me so deeply and the majority of those wounds were healed. I had found aspects of myself that I liked, that I even I found to be admirable. I was proud of myself, and I had every right to be. I was strong, I was determined, I was a force to be reckoned with. People wanted to be around me, they wanted to be my friend, my lover, they wanted to be like me. I was a role model, I was inspirational because of the confidence I had found, because of the person I had become. I had found my wings and I had learned to fly. Everything was going right because I was free.

Freedom’s a weird one though isn’t it? So many claim to want to be free, yet so many want to keep you prisoner, they want your freedom. Why do they have to steal from others what they could have for themselves? Is it as simple as it’s easier to chain others up in their own misery than it is to work towards their own freedom? Surely not?

I can see all the fragments of who I was before, I can see the fragments, shining in the darkness, waiting for me to reclaim them. I see the strength, I see the determination, I see the wit, the hope and the happiness, but even if I do manage to liberate them and stick them back together, I won’t be the same as I was. I don’t want to an inspiration, I don’t want people to look to me as an influence or a role model. I want to be free again, I want to fly again.

Log in to write a note
January 24, 2018

One needs to taxi to the runway before you can fly. Perhaps your taxi-way is just a little longer. I wish you all the best in your coming flight.