I'm in the darkness of a nursing home day room, practically alone. The exit signs are beaming bright red that reflect on the ceiling and floors like puddles; with a little bit light spilled on the floral wallpaper. My torso twisted in a chair and facing the window, examining bare trees that branch out into to twigs that resemble knobby fingers. The sky is inked in night and all I can see are a sea of twinkles that are too bright to be so far away.
My body is here but my soul isn't in frequency with my surroundings. My soul is existent but slim and starved of happiness. I've been too welcoming to the cold and cruel and unforgiving of the warmth in my life. My spirit needs to be fed and right now, there really isn't anything in my life that's satisfying me. It's like I'm sitting at the bottom of a pool, waiting to the chlorine to endure my entire being until the pressure eventually kills me.
Trust me, nothing is worse than feeling as if you're doing everything that you're currently doing for everybody but yourself. Other people are the reason make your decisions and think a certain way. Other people are probably the reason I'm even still alive to be completely honest. Does writing fulfill me? Does it even give me a purpose? Do I even write this book for myself anymore? Do I have motivation to be this digitally strong figure who's brave and fearless? Do I like myself?
I don't think a lot of people quite understand how it feels to sleek around the corners of life and wanting to hide yourself from everything and taking no pride in any part of who you are and what you do. Sometimes, finding yourself recording and replaying the most painful events that happen to you just to remind yourself of your worthlessness. Peace and self-love are too foreign to me. I haven't genuinely enjoyed myself without ducking my head back under the water and reminding myself that I am absolutely nothing.
I haven't take an actual breath in a while; one moment of reassurance that I'm okay and that everything's okay. Truth is, I don't know if I'm okay and I'm not sure if it's okay for me not to be okay but it's honestly how I feel. I feel not okay. I feel suffocated. I feel unworthy. I feel like I can't breathe. If you're reading this, then you've probably read some of my other chapters and know that I speak my truth and I don't really lie about what I believe in. This is no different.
I need a spiritual journey to find myself and start loving myself once I do get back into contact with my spirit. I just need to document my explanation and face these demons that are hiding in my closet that I don't speak of. I'll see you when I see you.
