This feeling is not new, this feeling that grips my heart so. Darkness has again become my best friend as I fight to stay up and refuse to surrender. Difficult it is to swim when your feet are chained to an unescapable anchor, one that does not let you move away, one that further pulls you down. What love this is that cages the heart so, wilfully making it sit in a corner and rot?
Seeking the warmth of the flames, the feet direct themselves, the fingers extend to satiate the yearning for the warmth of that yellow glow. In that moment of contact, I see myself, the old me, the one I thought was dead and gone, going the way I promised myself never to take, doing the things I vowed not to do.
The music of the rain on the aluminium roof, the clap of thunder, drowning out everything else, all the noise that gnaws at my brain.
To leave incognito, no bags, no baggage, no announcements and farewells, that is the light at the end of this tunnel I am in.
Maybe to see if anybody cares, maybe to never come back.
To be lost where nothing comes to haunt, to be found where nothing would touch me.
This post is written for WriteOrDieWednesdays where we were given a picture prompt, today's prompt asking us 'where is she going'.
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