My creation

I knew beforehand this would cost me greatly, yet I still chose to do it. At that time, nothing mattered more than to stay afloat, so I opted to create a protector (Rafty the raft, as I used to call it) that would keep me away from the unknown looming below my feet—threatening me to pull me down to the depth of my life’s uncertain sea. Now, while I lie on my back, I regret my naivety at that time, because I created something I don’t recognize anymore. That strange thing I greenlit is watching me—watching my every step with anticipation. It’s smiling, of course. It enjoys knowing I can’t step out of its domain. Too much time with it has harmed me; a sharp ‘tsk’ escapes my tongue as I recall everything it has taken from me. It’s hard for someone like me to be present; its angry mouth would always whisper warnings to my thoughts. I don’t understand how others do it. Maybe it’s because I underappreciated those moments my self would come and talk for me—after all, I believe that self was beneath them, whatever that means. I held those unlike me in a high regard; the way they behave around others felt inspiring almost as if they were free. Is a wonder to be with them and watch them just be, with every chuckle they made me share a desire grew within me to change. To be more like them became a goal, but I think I left something behind in the pursuit of that hollow accomplishment. It doesn’t matter because I’ve always known I am in the middle, or at least I like to think so. This way, I can’t get hurt. I love it here. Or is it making me think that way? Was that thought mine? I wonder. Maybe it is, but I am not sure—I feel as though I am navigating blind. I don’t know where I will go, but then I clench my fists on Rafty’s damp, splinted edges, and the uncomfortable uncertainty is gone. I know it is because I remember the same crashes of the waves, the same hungry cries of the gulls, the same radiant sunrays calming my body. Even though I can’t see, I know I am safe. I know I am in a place I want to be. I can’t help it but sometimes stop and take a break from the infinite rest and wonder. Do I really want to be here… do I? … I think I do… this is the only way to stay afloat, remember… right… I keep on resting. I feel as if I am not moving. Others around me are achieving the things I want to achieve. So why aren’t I? Am I below them? That cant be. Because when there is no one to witness me, I feel I have something to share. I even tell myself I’m enough—but I don’t think I believe that anymore. I’m blind, I can’t seem to see. So, what’s wrong? Why can’t I see the world like them? Why won’t it let me in—or am I the one keeping out? No… my creation—that’s it—that is the issue that plagues my sight. I don’t want to feel it, but I have no choice, because It’s rough texture cuts deep through my fresh wounds of the past. It knows I am broken, so it slithers its way through my cracks, trying to make itself whole within my integrity. Ever since I gave birth to it, it has shaped me into its own design. When others are present, it claws at my throat, searching for the stolen air they’ve taken, leaving only the sour taste of saliva pooling in my mouth. It needs to be whole. It needs to feel—because it enjoys it. It finds satisfaction when I stumble. Why? I created you. Why are you—my enemy? You were meant to protect me, not send me rolling up and down my bed as I convulse to the dissatisfaction of knowing I am less than everyone that I’ve known—Just because of you. I don’t accept your voice anymore; I WANT YOU OUT NOW! Nothing happened. I don’t know why yelling that out loud would do anything. As I inhale through my nose and exhale through my mouth, I go back to laying on my back. Looking at the ceiling that cradles me, I count the times I’ve been here, in this same position. Ashamed, I frequently watch the sky turn the color of my bed sheets as the sun comes out, and I hear the joy of others diminish by the cyclical darkness that always comes back—no matter the day, the week, the month, the year, the century, the… I counted my sheep! A new day has begun, and that feeling always returns—that feeling of impotent control—it resides over me. It has adhered to me, hasn’t it? Its thoughts are a part of me now; I was aware of the risks, but I got too comfortable. I don’t have the strength to choose anymore. I can’t escape from them. I want to push them away, but they just keep on getting louder. At the mere thought of being out there, I instinctively raise my hands to play with my hair, occasionally tugging at the strands in rhythm the pulse of pain as memories of past failures piles on like ants swarming over a piece of bread. I know myself—I know I can’t do it. So, I don’t. I don’t get out of this bed. The past is a heavy burden, and its persistent voice returns to beg me—don’t move. Just stay. Be here, present, consciously doing nothing. Maybe I am nothing. This is why I must remain here. This is the only way I know how to stay afloat. After all, if I attempt to leave, I’ll drown, as their sights will begin a storm, their eyes at the center of the hurricane and I’ll witnessing the reason for my wreck. I don’t want that, not now, I don’t know when. I am not ready, I never am. I just can’t think of a way to handle myself around them—that’s why I created you—to make me more, like them. If I am like them, I will always know where to go. But you aren’t helping, why? You became a reminder, with your scrawny little mouth and your shouts that once were whispers. Every time I hear them, my mouth goes numb as I try to rearrange my face to match others. My lips quiver, my head erupts with feelings I don’t recognize. You never let me meet them; you let me feel them just enough to control me but not understand them. I see you… I see your piercing white pearls laughing at my attempts to live. You pitch the perfect endless evening to my face so I can be all yours—maybe it’s easier that way. Right? Fine then. I won’t waste my energy and fight a losing battle. You’ve shown me you know more than I do, I understand now. It is so simple. You always make things so simple.