Writers Spell

Considering the fire burning in my stomach, and the choices I have, there’s not very much I can do. It seems I always want the same things… but those things are no longer the same. There I am looking for what used to be, looking for what’s no longer there. There I am facing the reality; all that’s there is myself. 

I’m not playing games, no matter what it looks like. As much as I say things are simple the fire burning in my stomach is physical proof that it’s all very complicated. So I’m not going to look for shadows anymore. I’m going to face my reflection, me myself and I will deal. I can’t pretend anymore that things aren’t what they are. What is coming is coming, and I can either stand firmly on my own feet or I can fall back into the uncertainties that I hold dearest in my heart. As much as I love them, I don’t think I can be that person.

I don’t think I can do the big things without the familiarity of being alone while doing them. The consequences are visible, and physical, but they’re also invisible and while painful they’re helpful. They are stability and strength. Letting go has never been a strong suit, but I have to loosen my grip some.

There’s not a lot of time left. Everything is so complicated, and there’s really just not enough time. That’s the truth. I’m afraid of the inevitable, but I accept the fear as fact. That’s the truth. No one understands the choice I made, but I didn’t make it for them, I made it for me. I want to give in and do what they think right, but I won’t give into shadows. That’s the truth.

The truth is that I am becoming my own person, and dead end or not, no one will stop me.

~D