It seems the little moments of triumph following what seems like clarity only last so long… those five minutes of honest self-appreciation and acknowledgement of what was and can be of the long forsaken and disdained confidence and mettle.
It is truly heartbreaking when it takes more than an hour to recognise the overwhelmingly foreign and unfamiliar sensation and the heightened intensity of all means of perception. When despair and confusion has become the norm, and the bickers of the voices are but mundane – one forgets, or rather, loses the ability to recognise the meaning of feeling safe.
And when that peculiar weightlessness and sense of security is finally realised as more than mere fantasy, the joy and relief that radiates from the pure happiness of believing in one’s ability to simply be seems to forgive all suffering and devastation that had preceded. The gratitude of truly recognising one’s efforts as fruitful and to be affirmed by knowing the stress of living in constant fear and the struggle to be once again in control was not in vain.
When things finally begin to make sense and the constant quarrels become discussions… and order is once again a possibility – as the internal conflicts and disarray begin to fall back in place – it is only predictable that the barely standing proclivities that upheld the external world would crumble and the already shattered consequences of unachievable responsibilities come crashing down.
And all that was achieved seem nought, crushed by the debris.
And all that is left is a gaping tear in what is left of her.
And sadness is but a mere dream, in the gutting anhedonia that remains.
And she no longer has a heart to fight with or for, nor has she the strength to satisfy its desire to unleash the agony sealed in by covert tears. Even what little relief crying could offer was too much to bear.