I’ve had so much dumped on my plate over the last couple of weeks that I think I’ve forgotten to breathe. I put on my mask and walk out the door each day. Heading straight into the world or in my case, the battlefield.
As I sit here bruised and broken, I don’t think I have it in me anymore to fight, yell, scream, or even be angry. Everything just hurts. I’m broken and defeated in the battlefield. I’ve cried all the tears that a human could possibly cry within the last month.
I wish I could say that my tears came from death, something that would be more kind and understanding but I cannot. My tears that fall daily are from heartache, heartbreak, reckless decisions with irrevocable consequences, stress, lies…so much lies…and so much more that I cannot even say out loud.
What I want is something that I will never have… Lost within the chaos of the battlefield. The enemy has won. Conquered and demolished me until I am nothing more than the skin I wear every day. There is no dept, no happiness, no laughter.
I am the shell of the person that I use to be. I am pretending that everything will be okay. That I am fine. I can barely breath or move without the pain running rampant throughout my body and mind. Its at this point now where I can’t even distinguish if its physical or psychological.
Maybe I’ve given everything that I could possibly give but why do I still want to give more. Why do I want to do more? More for something or someone who probably won’t appreciate me.
If I had a heart I would wear it on my sleeve.
My heart lays shattered at my feet while “Prince Charming” tries to pick up the pieces. However my mind always wonders back to the “Dragon” that destroyed it…destroyed me. As much times as this “Dragon” beats me down with his fiery breath why do I still hold my hand out towards him for peace.
His words pierce my heart, soul, and mind. Over and over again like a tape stuck on repeat. His attack to hurt me wasn’t in vain. He had nothing left to gain but to redeem his name. At any costs it seems. Words that cannot be taken back are the reasons behind my many panic attacks.
I’m stuck in the middle you see. I’ve ruined a good fairy-tale by being the person that I am. To my left, my hand reaches towards the “Dragon”. As fragile as I am my hand still reaches out to him strongly. Desperate even for things to go back to the way it was. Even though it was clear that I was not good enough.
On my right stands “Prince Charming” with his hand stretched towards mines. My hand however hovers in the air, trembling, just slightly out of his reach. I watch him and wonder “Do I even dare?” Do I even dare to take his hand and be pulled out of harms way? Do I take the chance and allow him to pick up the pieces of me off the floor?
Maybe I want them…those pieces to stay there as a reminder that not all Fairy tales will have a happy ending. Maybe I’m tired of fighting. So I stand there stuck in the middle, dropping my hands and keeping them to my sides because I am destruction.
The “Dragon” and the “Prince” was not always mortal enemies. They were brothers once. But much like Adam and Eve, I was the bad apple that got in the way. I was the taste of sin…
Destruction… Chaos… Evil…
Ruining beautiful things with a smile, a laugh, a touch. Being the person that I am was too much. I’ve lost the battle and lost the war. All that’s left is to stand back and watch the cards unfold from a far.
If the “Dragon” and the “Prince” could only see that the reason for their downfall is truly me. For that…
Because now I know that the