The loneliness is incredible, with my heart an empty vessel, who to confide in? who to reach for? When I ache inside, wishing, wishing for more.
To be understood, not unfairly judged, acknowledged, not cast aside or looked upon with a negative view. It’s as simple as realising sometimes, an understanding embrace with no words is enough.
My woven creations may be catastrophes to some, but for others perhaps they are their lingering answers.
Certain events which should not be shared, is this reality a truth? Why should I be ashamed to speak of my former agonising, my anguishing pains, or what I went through behind the scenes, behind those doors, and beneath those evil sockets?
Are my experiences too triggering, should I be silenced? Should I not dare to speak? But nonsense! I will utter my truths and even in the silences I will allow the listener to truly feel.
Because after over a decade of being what the world could only call a despicable mess, I can call myself a survivor.
Mentally speaking, I’ve reached that glorious healthy plateau, And if I want them to, I could allow deliciously proud tears to run down my cheeks, my hiccoughing sobs to carry others to my secretive room, my precious pride of place.
For the time for mourning what has been acquired or what has been lost has long passed, I am free, at least less encumbered, and I now need to be brave and not hold anyone’s hand, because I will make it, and as for this loneliness, this too, shall pass.
