It’s been two years since I sat down and seriously typed words. Since I sat down and breathed. and bled. and spoke. and lived.
It’s as if my heart got locked in a cage, locked in and thrown into the depths of the sea.
I’ve been drowning ever since. Drowning, dragging salt water into my lungs, only to break through the waves and gasp for bloody air. And then do it again. and again.
Is it possible to slice out parts of yourself and drown them? Those pieces becoming like zombies – dead but still alive and angrier because of their death?
Two years is a long time to hide from oneself. It’s a long time to go without oxygen.
As if denial has engulfed me, it feels like I’ve been moving through the sludge of salt, never truly feeling the ocean breeze upon my face. These demons of mine took a nap, one filled with chaos and chilling dreams, but still a nap nonetheless.
But they’re waking up and taking notice of my life and opening their jaws to lick the marrow clean from my broken bones.
I’m awake and so are they and there is no going back to yesterday.
There is only forward. There is only the knowledge that to drown the worst pieces of yourself is to also drown the best.
Awake with two years gone. Let’s see where this goes.